Long Strawberry Poems
Long Strawberry Poems. Below are the most popular long Strawberry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Strawberry poems by poem length and keyword.
It’s midnight and I’m alone downstairs
I hope she’s sleeping, I’ve said my prayers
Now I’m walking like I’m in a dream
Sneak in the kitchen for some ice cream
DON”T EVEN THINK IT
Back upstairs I hear her snore
So I slowly shut the bedroom door
Be very careful so she doesn’t wake
Sneak back downstairs to get some cake
DON’T EVEN THINK IT
Damn that woman can read my mind
Or I’ve got an alarm tied to my behind
I’m getting so hungry, I could cry
Just a couple of pieces of Pizza pie
DON’T EVEN THINK IT
Damn it woman I’m wasting away
Don’t know if I’ll make it through another day
I’m so weak I’m on my knees
I’ll save myself with some chips and cheese
DON’T EVEN THINK IT
What would happen if I’d get sick and die
Then you’d have to stay home and cry
Now, because I don’t want to see you blue
I’m going to eat those donuts just for you
DON’T EVEN THINK IT
Now a salad bowl would be just the right fit
Ice cream, whipped cream, banana split
Some chocolate, strawberry going to make my day
Then I heard a voice behind me say
DON’T EVEN THINK IT.
Running up the stairs giggling and clomping
Laughing way too loudly, alerting Mom that we are on our way.
Sh! Sh! Sh! our ten-year-old boss says.
Don’t spill the toast! It is cold by now but slathered in jelly.
Two kinds – strawberry and marmalade
The twins could not agree even on that.
“Strawberry is Mom’s favorite! “
“Then why does she always use marmalade?”
Someone trips before we can get the eggs to her.
They are runny, lukewarm. The way she likes them.
Loud wailing! Jenny has tripped on the stairs.
She dropped the juice. SH! The boss hisses.
LOUD WAILING! We all stare at Mom’s door.
Will she come out and ruin the surprise?
She does not and we are all relieved.
“HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!” We yell
as we burst into her bedroom.
“Marvelous!” she says, acting surprised.
All three of us stare at her, as she begins
eating the breakfast we made her.
The boss runs back down to get more juice.
He's unlike the kind you see on stage,
who do stand up like their actors in a play,
instead he'll sit down and build and create,
while he and his quirky imagination go on a nutella date,
He conjures up animal's who build rockets,
or writes about belly lint or whats in his pockets,
sometimes about unique strawberry women or unicorns,
or spam, pork rinds, or a zoo he might scorn,
His funny, quirky poems are definitely hard to resist,
that's why they're on my poetry reading list,
most of them light, comical and never a bore,
they'll tickle your funny bone right to the core,
That's why I try to read them first thing in the morn,
before I go to work and head out the door,
I'm sure like me he's a poet on the run,
just thankful he has time to be a sit down comedian.
12-10-16 Happy Birthday M.H. and thanks for your funny, quirky poems!
Find places for meditation,
a strawberry path leading
to mysterious backwoods;
hear the woodpeckers drill through bark...
how frightening they are at dusk!
Meet the jolly woodscutter
gathering the fallen trunks
of cherry oak for a winter's fire...
or for furniture like coffee tables and desks;
have you ever seen his fine workmanship?
Find places for meditation
on a breezy shore in early evening,
marvel at the spectable
so radiant and soothing, quenching
your spirit as woodwinds start a quadrille!
No witless clown is allowed
to spoil the fun of beachgoers, humor pravails
and draws crowds to the boardwalk;
catch the glow of wonder on every kid's face...
as those clowns amuse them and deliriously laugh!
Find places for meditation,
in the quitest cathedral or chapel to revive your entity,
and prayers murmured by the soft-glowing candles
renew your belief and trust in the Almighty...
in such a holy place, angels are found by the thousands!
Extreme peace overhelms your thoughts of victorious love
exulting in the vespers' hymns played by the loud organ
above the incense-burning altar of glacial marble;
humbly pray and flee incertitude and damnation...
the incantation is being broken and incapacitated by your will!
Find places for meditation
by a calm river feeding its waters to the distant sea,
making your vessel of hope reach it's destination;
someone will wait to board it and start a stupendous dream;
and dream you must to end your string of defeats!
Once in a while
I say no
But you are so seductive
and dangerous
The taste of you ...
You are melting
on my tongue
A pleasure
of love
On the surface you are so sweet
Your inner self is frozen
Even if you
are cold
you warm
my heart
A little kiss
my hot lips
become numb
I taste you
with greed
Bits bit of you
Just a little
Sweet taste in my mouth
Close my eyes
Enjoy ...
Do you want to taste
my delicious
strawberry ice cream
12.06.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Emotions stir eternally enchanted,
each hurricane fades to a black sky.
The listless poet’s quill drips,
corralling every vibrant sunset.
Writing as old lyrics catch the air,
Say it to me again.. ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
Strawberry-orange flavored orchestra,
citrus pizazz on your senses;
Each note meticulously blended,
what a sweet tart of a smoothie.
The next verse begins with ‘Sweetheart..’
Say it to me again… ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
Featherweight feelings floating
in the air are gingerly swirling.
You want to capture them
right then they pop,
translating into something else.
Say it to me just one more time. ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
It’s a welcome free fall you talked me into.
Teardrops, petals, ruffles and lace,
on my summer day walk, I slow my pace.
Beautiful, yellow gossamer balls of Dandelion,
white blooms drooping on a growth of Campion.
Underneath a tree grows vivid Periwinkle and Nettle,
and beside a flowing stream is yellow and white Daffodil.
In an open meadow, I bend low to pick some wild Strawberry,
as the gentle breeze bends the Daisy, Poppy and the pink Tansy.
My hand sweeps the delicate Clover and the intricate beautiful Yarrow,
at last, turning homeward with a bouquet of blue Cornflower and Mallow.
_______________________
June 8, 2013
Poetry/Rhyme/Summer Day Walk
Copyright Protected, ID 06-484-282-08
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
Bolero builds in intensity,
the interplay of instruments
crescendoing; soft to loud.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
The texture of a piece of art —
layer upon layer of a singular sunset.
A flute of tangerine, clarinet - cluster of grapes,
strawberry-bassoon, then the e-flat clarinet.
Add the solo oboe d’amore — life and love
from Eden ‘til now, the delightful garden
vaingloriously springs up trumpets of red.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams.
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
Shall I name them all one by one?
The crescendoing, the crashing,
each lovely creature has a name
and the symphony soars; we see them
climb up the stairs, into the stars.
One thinks Ravel’s still playing,
adding in the orchestra pit clouds,
for we must know there is
an ever burgeoning stand of instruments.
Ravel’s music haunting my dreams
Chimera of swells crashing, Everest
ever-reaching for God’s palm.
1/20/2020
Plentitude of pies
My birthday and,
Celebrations with pies,
Blueberry and strawberry,
With crispy coats and
Sweet jellies inside,
Added taste to life!
But on the contrary,
An economic pie,
Having been served to,
Jobless and homeless,
Veiled all joys,
Rendered life useless!
Craving for lost love,
Is a pie in the sky,
Eyes that glance
Into constant zero,
Pricking deep into heart,
Is thorn of solicitude!
Sour, sweet or bitter,
It's a world of pies,
Sweet ones to relish,
Sour to let by,
Bitter to avoid as,
What can't be cured,
Has to be endured!
Written October 13th, 2014
For contest 'Plentitude of Pies' by Sheri Fresonke Harper
Awarded HM
Like a stalking hoarse,
Have endured shrewd days and night,
Like the physician ampoule,
Ready on my skin to pour.
flights from ignorance left these
Strawberry marks,
Eyes glued on the object
compelled to the hard brown wooden logs in art,
And the iron in room "G02".
Friends and enemies unrelenting
awaits enticement,
numberless distraction as obstacles on my path,
beckoning to the banquet of misery,
as this dangling reputation slowly pace along undeterred.
ego gangs gauged and chokes to loose the prize
avalanche of invisible darts piercing from home and abroad,
but I, a pretty piece of flesh,
Stand aloof to watch a drama
With the ointments of the supreme being
Within my bowels,
Those that see the seals, demand the cause,
Of quietude in this world of madness.
As I stood aloof to watch the wretch mirth turns to mourn
Ah weary watcher, like you, I am a mere voyager,
on the route where the delight of the peasantry
Is wept into oblivion
There are dangerous curves
As we advance,
there are dangling arrows,
The old serpent is not dead,
he hides in ambuscades
The road becomes deeper and deeper,
The shades of the precipices fall bleaker and bleaker.
The clouds gather overhead,
Doleful voices
The way hardly discernible in this gloom
The path is dreary,
our feet too often wobble,
Heart ambushed by fiercest lust,
Yet, Firm stand I.
Not in my natural element