Long Steele Poems
Long Steele Poems. Below are the most popular long Steele by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Steele poems by poem length and keyword.
Connie's Daughter Ran Away
To mama,
I'm sorry for the grief I'm causing.
It's not everyday a daughter runs away. But I must.
Forget my bunny hop, and the tangibles. I just
couldn't deal with the intangibles of being left
off the team. It hurts.You were right. I am so
very reminiscent of dad. However, I regret,
not proudly at the moment. Mama I'm sorry. I'll
be okay. I have Rule, Sheldon, Steele in my
brain pockets ... I'll find my way around on the
streets. Don't fret, I'll keep in touch. I know
I'm only eleven. But I'm a big girl. Mama if you will,
forward letter, please. PP.
To my softball coaches
You know who you are,
You're a bunch of roaches
Your brain's off par
Off tracks
You are far worse than bums
A pitiful bunch of crackerjacks
Drinking moonshine rum
I cry at my loss
But I can laugh at you, you
For I'll even die on the cross
To make you coaches out as fools
By the time mama read this
I will be long gone
She will be run heartbroken, amiss
But sadly my life here is done
I leave behind in memory, pops
A Mama that loves me
Forever she'll be tops
I need to be going, set free
In the end Bobby Sox got my goat
With hillbillies running the show
Sorry mama for my lost hope
I say with sad tears, I must now go
Love you dearest mama, Paris Pachecho
connie pachecho
12/28/16
Such Innocent Madness
Listening to KHJ with the Real Don Steele,
playing it straight and loud on Boss Radio, with an
Elusive Butterfly wafting about, inside the tan ’68 Caprice,
when his secret journey of a thousand eye blinks,
commenced painstakingly and torturously,
like a dead glacier on fire.
To the left there, by her brown-skinned sternum,
with her young heartbone cleaving through snail-paced determinations,
he found her tender button throbbing,
beneath the cotton cover and the bleach,
there, in the excruciating darkness of teenage intensities;
You and he were reaching for the soul of an hour,
not stopping until constant time achieved the impossible stare off,
between them and it,
between the air, and the touching;
between the voicing of electronic controllings,
and the perennial reaching for another red apple,
served au jus, with croutons, earwax and studied leanings.
Now, it is just another pause in the exertions of young existence,
another heaving mindmelt in the suburban fog,
where you and him once sat fifty years ago,
at the big oaken table beyond the archway there,
inside his mother’s old musty house on Hoover street,
amidst the closed bedroom doors, the bougainvillea,
and the tacky green carpet with a dozen dog stains.
You sat there alluringly and decidedly silent,
with your long smooth legs opening and closing,
like a panting mouth, sucking in cigarette smoke in the dry wind.
But it was such innocent madness,
what was done and said that distant night in 1969,
with you and him sitting decidedly close in the darkness,
within the secure, locked confines of the tan ’68 Caprice.
Listen. Can you hear his bellowing voice through the speaker?
The Real Don Steele said it was April, when
all elusive butterflies swarm to the beat of the night,
the elusive time for young lovers to learn, and sigh.
.
.
"Invisible World"
seen but not heard
behind our masks
the mind hides
from our reflection
caught in each other’s eyes
the light being borne
from butchered past
leaves us confused and blind
we are the lonely people
seen but not heard
behind our masks
we shine our stories
paint our rhymes
over hearts still singing
there remains love
still moving
in our invisible world
it is marking time
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
gvlm
"Invisible World" / Tony Steele & The Massacre
https://youtu.be/d0Kvme-NvRY
At first I thought I was mistaken
But her eyes kept diverting to me
Unsure and a little bit shaken
Taken back by a Russian beauty
I’d watch her walk past my apartment
An exciting, self confident walk
Auburn hair and a smile heaven sent
I just knew with her I had to talk
Sitting on the porch in the courtyard
Relaxing, enjoying the night air
Sneaking up and catching me off guard
My dream girl Russian beauty so fair
Her sitting next to me changed my life
We talked leaving out not a thing
How I met Elizabeth, my wife
Of twenty-six years and still counting
Randy Steele
Lost and Found contest
“I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination”
A Rambling Poet
One path finds the door
Traveled only from the heart
Through the eyes to life
Hovering about
Dragonflies of all colors
Dancing with sunshine
A mystery world
Sparkling glass dimpled with life
Guarded by cattails
Nervous chatters above behold
A strange sense of company
I watch a miracle unfold
From behind a red oak tree
I hold my breath, don’t make a sound
Slowly peeking bit by bit
Tugging, jumping and playing around
Four unaware fox kits
The wind became my enemy
My scent from it they stole
No hesitation, instantly
They scampered down their hole
Astonished, I ponder what a rare sight I had just witnessed.
The tranquility of being surrounded by huge trees envelops me as I walk around the pond’s edge.
Led by a bullfrog’s ballad, I hone in on its stage location.
Startled, the frog leaps into its safe haven and disappears into thick vegetation.
The setting sun glimmers in the wake of the bullfrog, as does my reflection.
I watch until the water’s surface is smooth again.
A rustling in the brush directs my attention to a doe and her fawn wandering in search of a tender morsel.
The long shadows of dusk begin a tale of nocturnal beauty, a revelry to the nightlife to dance with a miracle world.
Content, I find myself back at the threshold of my heart.
Leaving the world that will some day surround me, a horn blaring taxi barely misses me.
Haiku, Rhyme, Narrative
Randy Steele
Three Gems contest
August 7, 2011
"To God* be the glory" indeed
For granting gift of wondrous worth
Eternal life by Gospel seed
Assuring bliss of heaven’s mirth.
I say, “It is well with my soul"
To God be the glory indeed
For achievement of divine goal
Reaching-out to meet other’s need.
Propelled by the Lord Who does lead
"I’m pressing on the upward way"
To God be the glory indeed
Inspiring my faith every day.
"Victory in Jesus" --- that’s right!
Such is true to me beyond creed.
Privileged to carry His light
To God be the glory indeed.
*Jude 1:25 KJV To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.
1. To God be the Glory by Fanny J. Crosby- Hymn sung by CBBC Choir; Ira Sankey had introduced it during Moody's 1873-1874 evangelistic campaigns.
2. It is Well with my Soul by H.G. Spafford-Hymn sung by CBBC Choir; also by Sandi Patty and Mahalia Jackson
3. Higher Ground by Johnson Oatman, Jr.-Hymn sung by CBBC Choir; also by the Smucker Family
4. Victory in Jesus by Eugene M. Bartlett-Hymn sung by CBBC Choir; also by Band Steele
2nd place, "4 Lines From Any Song" Quatern Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 2/10/2024
“come fluttering words, come drifting words to me…”
A Rambling Poet
A mere housemaid awakens before morning light.
Eyes wide, she bolts upright to the bed’s edge, as if late for work, though she
never is.
Another beautiful day to labor away.
Polishing silver all day has its advantages.
Each piece polishes to a looking glass, each a porthole to her dreams.
As she stares into the final polished vase, her weary face transforms into the face of
a lovely, fair skinned maiden.
Soft red lips highlight her perfect cheek bones and straight nose.
A simple pink ribbon holds her long, auburn hair in place.
Sparkling green eyes and a happy smile portray her excitement as she admires her
floor length pastel summer dress.
“Oh my, It’s time for my evening stroll,” she reminds herself.
Twirling once, she heads out the door leading to the apple orchard.
Barely noticing the orchard’s beauty, she strolls toward the stone steps leading to her favorite place, the stone rose garden.
Making her way down the steps, she immediately notices someone has placed two arrangements onto the platform from the stone cabinet.
As she bends to smell the flowers, she accidentally brushes some petals off, sending them floating to the platform and moss covered stone walk.
Closing her eyes, she lets the essence take her back a dozen years to a young girl
planting pink roses with her mother.
“There’s not a lot of room to plant,” her mother would say. “Two inches of soil between all this stone is what we have to work with.”
She opens her eyes to find herself staring into the polished silver vase.
Her tired, smudged face reminds her it’s time to go home.
Something different catches her eye in the polished looking glass.
Her long auburn hair is no longer neatly bundled under her cleaning bonnet, but held in place by a simple pink ribbon.
Randy Steele
July 25, 2011
"What Is She Thinking?" contest
Bountiful castles with walls of sand
Each grain an intricate part
Albatross squawk in high demand
Con morsels from those with soft hearts
Hot bodies bask in the blazing sun
Bikinis boast dangerous curves
Lifeguards patrol tanned to well done
As surfers show off their steel nerves
Nautical transports battle the swells
Kites soar aloft dot the sky
Enveloped in rays and happy kid yells
Transfers to a new level high
Blankets of color protect fragile skin
Immense weight of stress melts away
Nod off gently and try to imagine
Going to work every day
On a beach where work is like play
Randy Steele
Beach Blanket Bingo contest
"Gutter Hearts"
He’s got a gutter Heart
bleeds words that birth
diamonds sharp on his tongue
They hit her like
bullets from an Uzi gun
Silent, her heart implodes like molten marshmallow
She’s standing in the cafeteria
moving grease with a smile
that cuts his goat’s cheese like sharp steele
He licks his fingers
his tongue stings, he's still burning in Chile
while his mind calculates her
Unknown to him
She moves white white to black calculated,
his cufflinks are mounted with Pearls
She spells him
a long sentence
dripping from her eyes onto
an empty plate of dreams
He writes what comes to his mind
on a paper napkin, a story
smudged with tears and cigarette ash
the words slip out slippery
antiquated, smashed.
“What would you like?”
she takes his order
“A Normal Girl,"
he passed his payment in cash
She smiles
and thinks, he’s the No Go Zone
He’s living in another world.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
He starred in "Newhart", "Bosom Buddies" and "Baby Makes Five".
Sadly, his life ended on October 22, 2021, he was unable to survive.
In 2020, Scolari starred in a movie titled "Looks That Kill".
He guest-starred in "Happy Days" and "Remington Steele".
He starred in movies titled "Dean", "Sorority Boys" and "Letting Go".
He starred in 66 episodes of "Honey, I Shrunk The Kids: The TV Show".
He guest-starred in "The Nanny", "The Love Boat" and "Family Ties".
He had Leukemia like my dad and it's sad when such a talented actor dies.
[Dedicated to Peter Scolari (1955-2021) who died on October 22, 2021]