Long Stitches Poems
Long Stitches Poems. Below are the most popular long Stitches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stitches poems by poem length and keyword.
Tick tock says the clock
Time to
Walk, talk,
exact
pain or gain
says the clock
Pray you don't fall prey
slack mouth lacks
Wanting no seizing
From season to season
No reason for ridicule
A reason for a silence
Resilience, shame
Tamed fame, no frame
Fascinating
Pain; Playing victim
All time while
medicine to heal
Ease on you
Gain; Territory expands
Gratitude and love
Yield bountifulness
Walk; In others
Others walk
So in you
Clothes covers scars
Lay your bed
So you lay on it
Talk; To others
Others talk
So to you
Respect is
To be
Reciprocated
Prey; Begging for attention
To be valuable
Discriminating
Unaware of self
Uniqueness
Slacking; Unused brain
Speaking
clones
laziness
Instead
Observing
Flapping
flutter's you
Lacking; Self confidence
Discipline
Brings denials
Attaining
Acquiring
Restricted
Wanting; Instant gratification
Losing focus
Settling for anything
Granted desires
Seizing; Always consistent
Taking without
Reciprocating
Updated version
Of snatcher
Swiftly
snitches get stitches
Season; goes around
Comes around giving
What you gave
Relentlessly
Unapologetic-ally
Reason; for living
Decision to make
Consequences
You see clear
Before
Action
Reaction
Ridicule; Bulling the bull
Ought
Take by horn
A worthwhile
Ride
Love don't cracks
Ego does
Pride
Sacrifice
Power
Silence; smooth in action
Fast
soundless in nature
Powerful
Creation
Liberation
Hesitation
Resilience; Attitude say all
Gratitude
Gateway
Misfortune
Gave
Up
Shame; Indifference
passableness
Gain
Pains
Mindset matters
Time reviews
Tamed; trained
easier to control
Master no craft
Slave to others
self motivations
Survival mood
Fame; Without integrity
notability
Important
Dishonest
Division
Seekers
Frame; Physically portraying
Building
Lies
Manipulating
Minds
CLONES
Do as I say
actions matters
Fascinating; Alluring contents
Preys are so lovely
Be aware
Devourer
Insatiable
Bird eats ants
Ants eats birds
Live or die
Talk to inspire
Walk to heal
Says the clock.
A variation on a theme by Dr. Seuss...
There once was a Grinch who was bad to the bone,
Which was why he always spent Christmas alone,
But one year the Grinch said, "Enough is enough!"
And decided to steal everyone's Christmas stuff.
In the village below, in the center of town,
Stood a great Christmas tree with gifts all around.
There were gaily wrapped presents, some large and some small,
Filled with treats and surprises for one and for all.
The Grinch plotted, connived, he schemed, and he hatched.
"Come Christmas morning," he vowed, "all that loot will be snatched."
Then he rushed back inside to flesh out his plan
To disguise himself as that Santa Claus man.
He measured, and cut, and stitched stitches galore,
When he suddenly heard, just outside his front door,
Something that set both his Grinch ears to ringing.
The sound was quite audibly somebody singing.
He opened his door just a crack so to peek,
And what he beheld made the Grinch squeak out "Eek!"
In front of his cave was a sight quite bewilderin'
A small group of seven or eight village childeren.
Then a curly-haired toddler toddled forward an inch
And cooed, rather cutely, "Mewwy Cwissmas, Mistuh Gwinch!"
The snarl that he tried for turned into a grin,
And 'stead of biting their heads off, he invited them in.
He dashed to his fireplace, tossed on a Yule log,
Then served gingerGrinch cookies and sweet green eggnog.
They ate, drank, and sang for an hour or more
Then announced they must leave and bounced out the front door.
As he watched them depart, to his utter surprise,
The Grinch felt his heart trying to double in size.
He quivered, he quaked, his knees started to shake.
"This unGrinchlike behavior has been a mistake!"
Then he slammed shut the door and proclaimed with a sneer,
"Well, you thwarted me this time, but just wait 'til next year!"
This tale has a moral, quite simple yet bold:
Some people can't change, if the sad truth be told.
The Grinch, of his species, was simply a bad 'un,
He couldn't change his spots, poor thing, even if he had 'em.
Two sisters it seems lived near Bowling Green,
Each a beauty in every way.
One fair it is told with hair of pure gold,
Eyes blue as the sky in May.
The other brunette, the lovely Collette,
With eyes a deep, warm brown,
Two beautiful girls with masses of curls,
The most sought after girls around.
Wherever they went they turned heads and gents,
Would follow it seemed in their wake.
They were ladies of leisure, used to parties and pleasure,
And their father spared naught for their sake.
A young man came their way one fine summer day.
Debonair and handsome was he.
He charmed his way in, with each sister he sinned,
But he'd learn that their favors weren't free.
Their father was wealthy, his bank account healthy.
The young man thought he'd hit his mark,
But to his dismay he found out that day,
To dally with these girls not smart.
Behind him he'd left many hearts bereft,
And he thought the sisters the same.
But together they came and called out his name,
And their family knew who to blame.
'Tis a very small man who will take a girl's hand,
Then leave her ashamed and in tears.
To be left in the mud covered in blood,
Would now be the least of his fears.
Because of deception they'd shared his affection,
Now he would deal with their father.
The old man cried out with a mighty shout,
And the young man began to grow smaller.
A small man I see, a small man ye be,
And never no more shall they see ye.
In a prison ye'll live in a prism I give,
To my daughters where they will keep thee.
There is no escape, this is your fate,
For your crimes now you'll pay the fee.
You'll live in this locket I draw from my pocket,
Until they no longer desire thee.
The sisters could share it, each one could wear it,
And he would be theirs forever.
Trapped in the locket he took from his pocket,
Because of his wicked endeavors.
Now the sisters it seems visit him in his dreams,
So he isn't too lonely at all.
Though filled with depression he's their prized possession,
Trapped in that little gold ball.
Kept locked in his prison to madness he's driven,
And the sight of it leaves them in stitches.
Never play fast and loose or attempt to misuse,
The tender affections of witches.
It started with a stamped canvas
Long, long ago, long, long ago
To be prettier than dianthus
Finished it'd put on a great show
Long, long ago, long, long ago
The embroidery done in detail
When finished a lesson bestow
Remembering now the tales I could tale
A few stitches remain to be sown
'Pon that piece started when you were born
Long, long ago, the project blown
Gone with job of rearing firstborn
Could it be finished for another?
My arthritic hands are crippled
'Tis hard to do stitches, I'd rather
Still hold you close, but not smother
Long, long ago, long, long ago
Is not today, what will matter later
I really can't say, as you still grow
Possibly become an arbitrator
Wednesday night, hard at work
We strove to get the paper out;
Our goal to met the deadline
And secure the daily routes.
But then an accident occurred,
A case of slice and dice and dread.
A finger slipped, now padded tip
Was hanging by a thread.
Unable to stop the flow of blood,
The victim quite distressed
We opted for the ER
All hoping for the best.
And luckily the doc on call
Was ready to perform.
"The bark is worst than the bite,
The blood worst than the harm.
He raised two hands, t'was plain to see
To him it didn't matter.
"Stitches or glue, it's up to you."
All eyes lent toward the latter.
A questioning smile to prompt my choice
Which all but put me at my ease.
I shook my head and closed my eyes
"Just stick it to me, please."
A true, if colorful presentation
co/my mom-Reta Pruitt
August 17,2018
I reckon I'm revealing my age when about radio days I pen,
But I fondly recall listening to our Philco radio 'way back then.
What wondrous tales, mysteries and pure comedy from it flowed,
By simply tweaking the tuning knob on the dial that brightly glowed!
I sprawled upon the floor nigh the Philco letting my imagination flow,
As cowboys, pilots, pirates and comedians performed their show!
I laughed as Jack Benny struggled to play his screaky violin,
And thrilled to the music of Glenn Miller and Irving Berlin!
I followed the escapades of teacher Eve Arden as Our Miss Brooks,
And the family sitcom starring Fanny Brice as Baby Snooks!
There was Hopalong Cassidy, The Cisco Kid and The Lone Ranger,
In shootouts with the bad guys protecting the good guys from danger!
I felt tingles along my spine hearing Inner Sanctum's creaking door,
As Richard Widmark began his weekly series with scary tales galore!
Red Skelton's Clem Kaddidlehopper and Sheriff Deadeye kept me in stitches,
And the eerie episodes of Lights Out nearly scared me outta my britches!
The Life of Riley and Fibber McGee and Molly aired on Sunday nights,
And later I enjoyed listening to The Bickersons and their perpetual fights!
Happily, I have many of those old shows on tape that I play now and then,
When I tire of the inane rubbish on TV due to my short attention span!
I'd like to change for the better of myself
If it has to take a painful surgery
I'll do everything I can
To be fully accepted in a society
where good look is immensely more likable
and appreciated by people who are
dumb to understand the definition
of what immeasurable beauty is
If it has to take several stitches
Just to save my face from judgments
I can endure the pain and do what it has to
I can spend all my money from the bank
Just to be loved by people
Where will they love my new name
This process may change me a little
But I don't bury myself in the grave
This is just only to prove
I have to love my own self.
You may not understand
But try to wear on my shoes
How will you feel
If a person like you don't feel good
when you see somebody ugly
As ugly as me
LeiStrauss2017
are broken hearts hard to find?
they’ve littered the streets,
since the beginning of time!
it is the unspoken war, the one we avoid.
we speak of a splinter of glass
one here…one there
but yolks are smashed –
can’t you see the spreading mustard gas?
how pretty paper hearts look together…
but watch the tearing in two
the crushing
the shredding
the screaming
i’m out of breath to think of such things…
cupid’s arrows hurt! they pierce, they twist, they bleed!
some folks are just an offering –
arrows all over her – in her crown, shoulder, stomach, side –
she’s terrified, closed up inside, too many stitches.
her mouth no longer says- i love you…
painted on lips quiver and shake, at everyone within her wake.
wake up, move on, he’s not worth your time!
she’s cold inside, like icy titanic waters. but -
she didn’t drown. she barely clings to the lifeboat
along with every other tear in the ocean deep.
T
E
A
R
T
E
A
R
2/7/2017
Compartmentalization, a labyrinth of the mind,
Dissociation, a dance with fragments blind,
Fragmentation, where sanity threads unwind,
Within this mental content, secrets we find
In the depths of the psyche, a world untold
Dissociative identities, stories unfold,
The heart weighs heavy with stitches torn,
Tender scars hemorrhaged; love core is worn.
Dangling damage, as shattered glass, gleams
Reflecting on the chaos, the pain, and the screams,
The cerebral cortex fires, a bull eye strike fatally,
Instinct walks the line, logic is useless, and hastily
Shattered visions, a maze within the soul,
Where reality ends and illusions control,
Lost in the labyrinth, searching for the light,
Betrayed by the mind deceptive might.
Within this maze of mental content
The battle to reconnect and prevent
Childhood trauma, the catalyst of this plight,
A shattered sense of self-taking flight.
Each compartment holds a piece of the truth.
Yet the puzzle remains incomplete, uncouth,
A jigsaw of memories, scattered and torn,
A puzzle of identities, tattered and worn.
Fragments of memories are scattered and lost
As the mind tries to bear the unbearable cost
Memories encoded and stored deep within
But retrieval becomes a battle to begin.
Fragments of life scattered such debris,
A shattered mirror, reflecting what used to be,
The mind labyrinth, a maze of confusion,
A battle within, a constant intrusion
But amidst the chaos, a speck of hope
A chance to mend the pieces, to learn to cope,
To embrace the fractures and find strength within,
To embrace the scars and let the healing begin.
Within broken visions, a spark of resilience resides.
A spirit that refuses to accept any abides.
By compartmentalization and dissociation,
by fragmentation and mental isolation.
The cerebral cortex may fire, but the mind will rise.
And rationality, once blasted, will find its prize.
Instinct will gracefully dance with grace.
As the shattered visions find their rightful place.
So let us navigate this maze of the mind.
With compassion and understanding, we'll find
Behind the shattered glass and fractured dreams,
Lies a resilience that utterly gleams.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“There is a kindness that dwells deep down in things; it presides everywhere, often in the places we least expect.”John O’Donohue
Underneath the burnt oak,
a beetle tends her emerald brood.
The wind, though it howls,
parts just enough to spare them~
an unasked mercy.
The gutter hums with yesterday’s rain,
where a sparrow drinks
from the cupped hands of rust.
Even the alley’s cracked concrete
offers up a dandelion, gold as a pardon.
The drunkard’s shadow,
long and unsteady at midnight,
is caught by the streetlamp’s glow~
not to shame him, but to say:
Here, I’ve lit the way home.
The silt-heavy river, weary,
still bears the moon's reflection.
hat is this benevolence
that stitches the world’s wounds
with invisible thread?
Look closely:
it’s the way the sidewalk
doesn’t swallow the ant~
the way the winter sky,
filled with clouds,
still lets the sun through.