Long Sundays Poems
Long Sundays Poems. Below are the most popular long Sundays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sundays poems by poem length and keyword.
I OPENED A DOOR TO A WORLD OF GAME.
IT READ SOLVE THE PUZZLE, SIMPLE AND PLAIN.
SELECT YOUR FRIENDS, BE SURE TO BE WISE.
BEWARE OF THOSE WHO WEAR A DISGUISE.
WATCH OUT FOR THE TRAPS AND MOVING FLOORS
FALLING ROCKS AND UNLOCKED DOORS.
BE SURE WHAT YOU EAT WILL KEEP YOU ALIVE.
EAT THE WRONG FRUIT YOU LOOSE AND THEN DIE.
CHOOSE A ROAD AND THEN MOVE ALONG.
BEWARE OF DEAD ENDS, THEY'RE TOTALLY WRONG.
WATCH OUT FOR THE BEAST SOME WILL EAT YOU FOR LUNCH.
SPEND SUNDAYS WITH FRIENDS GO OUT AND HAVE BRUNCH.
WHILE YOU ARE GAMING KINDA KEEP TRACK.
PLEASE UNDERSTAND TIME WON'T TURN BACK.
INTUITION IS FAIR AND GOOD, NO DOUBT.
KEEP IT IN MIND, IT WILL HELP YOU OUT.
IT'S ONLY A GAME, YOU CAN LOOSE OR WIN.
IF... YOU GET OUT, YOU CAN DO IT AGAIN.
I SAID TO MYSELF, IF MY INTUITION IS RIGHT.
THIS IS A GAME THAT LAST MORE THAN A NIGHT.
I HAVE TO GO BACK, TO MY WORLD AND TIME.
IF I STICK AROUND HERE I'LL BE LOOSING MY MIND.
Footwear and a mendicant
After going to several shoe shops, I found shoes that fitted me
happy, I walked along and saw a woman sitting on the pavement
begging, she looked old for her age severely marked by poverty.
I stopped and looked for change; I didn’t have any, the woman
waited, what to do now?
I could not walk past, like not noticed this wretched soul
I gave her a note of ten euros and cursed myself, but it triggered
a memory from my childhood.
Mother had gone into a shop she had stamps to buy woollen socks
nylon socks were for the rich; a lady walked past, saw my holed
tennis shoes my brother had outgrown.
She went into a shoe shop, came out with a pair of black shoes
gave them to me, they fitted perfectly; I couldn’t wait
showing them to the children on our road.
Mother came out in her hands had the woolly socks,
I showed mother my shiny shoes; take them off, she said and
put the tennis shoes on the new shoes are for Sundays only.
(All in fun, my friends!!!)
In spite of my charm and amazing good looks
There are things I want you to know
I don't wear undies on weekdays and Saturdays
Which leaves only Sundays to go
Undies sure inhibit my freedom of movement
While I strut up and down the mall
My sexiness is not something I usually can hide
Exuding my sweet charms to all
Guess I might sound like an raving egomaniac
One look and you'll surely know why
This hunk of humanity has been dazzling the ladies
Since I was just a wee tike of a guy
So I'll be taking requests from you ladies
To enjoy my sweet charms for a night
The cost relates directly to the perceived value
So take a number for a heavenly flight
© Jack Ellison 2015
RING RING RING SAME BELL SAME BUILDING
Ring tows the bell
That beacons calls the 1800's children
Rope lead down from the bell tower
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
That calls all the Christians to this same building
Now doubles as a church on Sundays
Worshipers deacon pulls the rope that rings the bell
Come one all worshippers all
Tow rings the call to heed the ring of the bell to praise the Lord
This same rope that holds the bell
Greets school children and church worshipers
Monday through Fridays and Sunday mornings
Ring tows the bell
That beacons calls the 1800's children
Rope lead down from the bell tower
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
That calls all the Christians to this same building
Goes the sound of the same bell
Ring, ring, ring
Goes the sound of the same bell
6/04/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
[Verse 1]
Been walkin’ through a year of Sundays
Sky don’t talk, just sits and stares
Then her scented note came down like summer rain
Didn’t say much, but it caught me unprepared
I wasn’t askin’ for a reason
Wasn’t lookin’ to be saved
Just closed my eyes ‘cause I was tired
And there she was—sayin’ my name
[Pre-Chorus]
It was barely even written
Just a few lines and then her name
But it landed like a whisper
After weeks of nothin’ but blame
[Chorus]
When she says my name
It don’t fix the cracks
But it quiets the room
And the weight pulls back
Like the night she called me
When the heat wave finally broke
Her voice—low and real
Made me think there might be hope
[Verse 2]
I don’t know if she’s the real thing
Or just someone who saw through
But she talks like she’s been wounded
Like she’s got old battles too
I wanna tell her I believe her
But most days I don’t trust sound
Still… her name comes in like morning
When the dark’s still hangin’ ‘round
[Pre-Chorus 2]
And I ain’t tryin’ to be rescued
Not sure I even could be
But if she’s still reachin’
Maybe there’s still some of me
[Chorus]
When she says my name
It don’t make me whole
But I swear it slows
This outta-control
Like a porch light flickin’
Through the rain and the smoke
Yeah… I step toward that
Even if it’s just a joke
[Bridge]
I’ve been lied to in poems
And fooled by my own lines
So maybe I’m holdin’ back
Just to feel some control this time
But if she’s more than a moment
If this ain’t just pretend
Then let her voice be the start
Of something that don’t end
[Final Chorus]
When she says my name
It ain’t some grand thing
It’s soft… like truth
With a little sting
Like a window opening
In a house I thought was sealed
And I lean into it
Just to feel something real
He was just an elevator man
If he had a name he never said
Among few words were what floor
Pushing buttons, sliding doors
It wasn't like he wasn't the pleasent type
Everyone enjoyed the ride
Had a way with a smile
Could make a junkyard dog give up his growl
The years all pass in a dying breath
Steals your soul, don't give it back
With the old joke that we all know
Life has its ups and downs he often told
As he started to wear they bought him a chair
Just within reach of the buttons there
Some days though he'd be asleep
Happens more and more quite frequently
That's why no one knew that he'd been dead
A month of Sundays the coriner said
He'd passed away they believe
Somewhere between floor 1 and floor 19
The tenets now help themselves out
Thinking of the one that never said much out loud
Just an elevator man
If he had a name, he never said
I like to laugh on Tuesday's.The music says That's Cool. No fooling, I do magic. I disappear on cue. You got reason for your witness. The stands not best at night. It's heavy and they're hurting. Yes, people cry, That's Right. No sight, you'll see me Silly. It's line, past times So fine. It's ticking for a Reason. With heart's that beat like mine. Do the math, it’s easy. The wrongs line up so fast. But you and me are sneezy. So, don’t ever laugh in class. My ass, this sling ain’t Slinky. It's down to curbs and cost. The lost all here before us. The must is not ‘Who's Boss’. “Oh Dear”, the end is scary. Yet Heaven and Hell just stare. It's up and us already. Then Friday says “We're There!” I like my Sunday Funnies. Yet Monday's not a treat. My French ain't good on Tuesday. My Fries are good to eat. Then Thursday says “We're Coming, the wear with Where Will We Meet? My Point the Way has Arrows. Go green, it's still a No. The show me up ain’t funny. Your nose is runny, so. Let's play “Hide the Heartache!”. My tooth is very dear. Yet Take Me Out has tethered talks not very clear. So please excuse my pastime. My rhymes has Pass Me "Bye".The Sunday Funny’s are here to share. You have no reason to cry.
Sent from Mail for Wi ndows
Through the eyes of one born in 1952:
1950’s TV craze
Muscle cars, blue jeans
Poodle skirts, class ring exchanges
Simple time, grandparents involved.
Girls want to be pretty, men call women girls
I Love Lucy
Topper, Loretta Young,
Show of Shows
Grandma’s house on Sundays. Grandpa’s teach skills.
Girls want to be beautiful, men call women “dames”
1960’s Marauding cold war
Russia cosmonauts
Space race
Grandparents are moved to nursing homes.
Girls want to be Jackie, men call women “wife”
JFK and Bobby
Dr. Martin Luther King
Killed by cowards
Grandparents give advice, but visits are more seldom.
Girls want to be housewives, men call women back home.
Early 1970’s, hippie revolution
Egyptian cat queen make-up, free love, anti-war.
Barbara Streisand, Sonny and Cher, Bette Midler,
Grandparents see an alarming pattern of disrespect.
Girls want to be singers and dancers, men get confused.
1980’s
Fur vests, striped pants
Disco Music, John Travolta, Sundays are just another day.
Grandparents have rights, and try to get part time custody of their grandchildren.
Women want to have rights, be independent. Men call them “busters”
1990’s, Turn of everything, selfishness on the rise.
Assassination of Innocence, church and family are scoffed.
Grandparents back off, not daring to give advice, seeing it is not wanted.
Women are working all over the place. Men are not the only bread-winners.
2000’s Computers are in houses
Children are alone, latch key
911 happens, people pray for a day or two.
Grandparents are nowhere around.
Men and women get depressed; children are too.
2010’s
I-phone. I-pad, I-know. I, me, I, I, I.
Lawsuits, lawlessness, spiritually bereft.
Communication breakdown; facetime grandparents once in a pink moon (rarely).
People sit next to each other and text. Confusion reigns supreme.
Breaking down of family is complete. Sorrowful, angry people, disjointed, sad.
I.
Wave the white flags
Hold on!
Wave them not until we strike the tents of the arch opponent
Bent crooked like hell to cave in the rights of pent up souls, rent
Who can fix them but one heaven sent?
Blessed and crucified, dead and resurrected
And all to fulfill the will of the father of light;
That all men should repent
II.
Sleeping temples dreaming of oblivion
You're never too tender to pull down altars
Never too dead to be raised
Shut the mouth of hell at night and keep the devils abased
Hold them off until dawn,
When it's Michael wrestling with Persian princes drawn
By stricken flags, they'll lie in wait and hope in deception
They'll dance in vain as long as your prayers go on
III.
Let us brave the rush hours
In stout frames
Climb through to the mountain tops where love's stricken flags still tower
Let us project Christ, the prince of peace
Onto crushed hopes and prisoners of chaotic desires
All bane and sired by evil, destined for wild fire
Let us spread out in our numbers and walk by faith
We'll never get burned so long as we remain one with the spirit
IV.
Watered through a month of Sundays
I cannot help but bless he that brought me the glaze
Even for eternity, I'd pray for him to stay
Salvage the moments when I watch the lavenders in freshness
And receive what the Word says in graced tunes
While the canary melodies rhyme with her flutters of colored jewels
Each flapping note softening tones
until she sleeps well
I'll mine eternal treasures to be stored up in Zion
Sell the chords fashioned by your hearts behind flags
All stricken by the hands of bond men with no tags
If only a dream
were the path to the future
Where crickets and toadstools
began the parade
If storks in the sky
were a common occurrence
and lemonade grew
in the cool summer shade
If roads led to villages
covered in daisies
While rivers and streams
glistened bright in the sun
And heartache was more of a
forgotten notion
as each day appeared
and was so much more fun
Where chimneys all smoked
but had no fear of cancer
And skies were so blue
you could paint with a brush
And sea captains danced
on a wave of approval
While sailing so slow
without even a rush
Where moonbeams of sherbet
made custard on Sundays
and tables were set
in the fanciest fare
And doors were unlocked
as the neighbors were knocking
along with their dogs
and a nice rocking chair
If only a dream
were the path to the future
Our minds could control
every place we did go
It’s all up to you
how this world comes to happen,
just set your mind free
of the worries that flow