Long Sundries Poems
Long Sundries Poems. Below are the most popular long Sundries by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sundries poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, how our world has changed!
Our days are rearranged-
this quarantine exchanged
for freedom- so deranged.
How long- we do not know;
the peak will come to show
a curve- and then plateau-
at that, our hope may grow.
Oh, beautiful, spring days-
we're missing your bright blaze;
forsythia's gold sprays
and daffodil displays!
Our children rule us now-
to leave home, disallow.
They bring sundries and chow-
six feet apart allow.
If this could be a dream
a nightmare's ghoulish scheme,
we'd sure wake up agleam-
with joy, we'd dance and scream.
But, no- this nightmare's true;
together, we'll pull through.
But- many perished too!
We, quarantined, make do.
April 6, 2020
Premiere Contest: One On The Chin
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
I took my periodic stroll through the local antique store today.
There were the usual horse collars, clocks and various sundries on display.
Havin' no need fer horse collars and sech, I quickly passed them by,
But a paintin' of an abandoned stagecoach really caught my eye!
The artist depicted it in a field overgrown with tumbleweeds and brambles.
It looked so very forlorn, its former glory now in a total shambles!
I contemplated this poignant scene and mused upon its past,
And how it may have helped conquer the western frontier so very vast!
I could picture the cranky driver a-cussin' and crackin' his leather whip,
Stingin' the ears of his cantankerous mules urgin' them on to a faster clip!
As they raced across arid deserts and rounded treacherous mountain curves,
How the passengers must've been jostled, gittin' on each others nerves!
I visualized the characters that old stage must've transported to the west!
There were gamblers seekin' suckers, concealin' ample aces in their vest!
Platoons of preachers clutchin' their Bibles were numbered 'mongst the hosts,
And young and innocent teachers were headin' west to teach at army posts!
Soiled doves, plyin' their trade, were headed fer sawdust saloons.
I wondered if the old stage had ever been sacked by outlaws and their goons.
I reckon the old derelict had earned its repose - its axles no longer squeal.
If only that old stage could speak! My oh my! The secrets it might reveal!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
this was written after a day of snorkeling off mile marker 14 in Maui
Dominated by destinations and schedules
I can only look ahead.
Forward to 14.
We must park, we must mark ours.
I must govern us by order if we are to enjoy all.
Positioning my sundries I cannot help to see Her.
Wisps of hair caress her face.
Joy radiates within.
A carefree smile is cast my way
and it awakens me from my parental coma.
Summoned by her beauty I walk to the shore
The water seems cold, but I yearn to obey.
And her desire for me frees me from my coma.
Shells crush beneath our feet
as we walk side by side into the water.
The water is not cold: I am warm.
Water refreshes my face as we submerge into the water.
We venture to deeper regions seeking adventure.
Sight is stimulated by color, movement, and shapes unknown.
That is when She reaches out for my hand.
That is when she squeezes my hand.
Adventure beckons.
A coral garden teeming with vibrant colors and shapes.
Fish both large and small conversing with one another.
These are the sights that captivate us.
And as we explore into the matrix of this garden
we are honored with the appearance of a great beast
gracefully swimming towards us.
A current turns us towards the shore
with the passing of the turtle,
and the squeeze is released.
The adventure does end.
We must return safe.
We must find our plot.
I must direct us back safe.
A familiar sensation returns to me.
It is my parental coma summoning me back.
I shall return willingly for my sleep will be illuminated
with the imagery of Her innocent beauty.
My dreams shall be sweetened
with the memory of that squeeze
When I was growing up in Brooklyn,
Which was way back when,
We’d always get just what we needed
In the Five and Ten:
Cosmetics, stockings, pots and pans,
Greeting cards and games;
Curtains, tablecloths and vases,
Clothes and picture frames.
Sundries (who knew what they were?),
45’s and candy;
Mops and brooms and other things
A housewife would have handy.
It was fun to browse the aisles
With friends right after school,
And sometimes have a malted
Sitting on a fountain stool.
The Five and Tens have shut their doors;
New stores cannot compare.
I sometimes need an item
That I can’t find anywhere.
Of course, there is the internet
To help me in my search,
But in the Five and Dime, I’d never
Be left in the lurch.
Fry up some peeled potatoes
Sliced length wide
Mixed 1/4 cup of
Chopped drained spinach
Mix with creamcheese
olive oil
Onion
Garlic
Nutmeg
3 tablespoons of feta
4 tablespoons of
Smoked swiss
3 tablespoons of
Chopped sundries
Tomatoes
Layer between potatoes
Stack three high
Mix
6 tablespoons of sourcream
1 tablespoons of dill
3 tablespoons of melted butter
1 dash of Tabasco
2 whisked eggyolks ( over steam)
Lemon juice
1 tablespoon of fishstock
Eight poached eggs
20 slices of
Serrano ham
Arrange and serve with sourcream
Topping over the potatoes
Shadows fill the alley, where they lie in wait
To buy and sell sundries of a wicked kind
needles injected, gun shots fired, witnessed in
flashing neon lights
I equate them to sewer rats, crawling 'round
whose sinister stories would make me shudder
counting their number by red cigarette glows
blurred in veils of smoke
Another cheap wine bottle smashed to the ground
Stiletto heels needing to trade for a fix
Money earned turning tricks; spent on ecstasy
eyes in Zombie mode
I should board my window so I cannot see
the bowels of a city, dark and defiled
Such tragedy permeates the air until
street lamps dim at dawn
Pick-A-Title Vol 19 - 4 Sapphic Stanzas
Title Chosen: A Dark Underbelly
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
Posted on July 11th, 2020
I can not remember how long ago
You told me your tale of greed
It's stuck in my mind for many a year
That we should take just what we need
But my kin are now wanting more and more
So your tale I tell them to heed
Now we are grown and worldly wise
Your tale has lost its point
My children confusing want with need
Your words I use help anoint
To free little minds from material thoughts
But so far it just disappoints
The moral of the tale you told me back then
Was to keep pure soul and mind
To fight the desire for other's things
Remain envy free and be kind
Consumers grow more demanding though
Industry tempts with new designs
Wants become needs losing concept of greed
Resulting in moral blurred lines
New products galore in everyday life
Making it hard to resist
We all want more and more, then still more
Without them we can't exist
Or so we think nowadays that's the case
Forgetting your tale's gist
But I want to change all of this for my kids
Teaching the value of self
Take just what we need for oneself
Not what we want for our gluttonous ways
Just what we need for good health
Rejecting sundries, respecting our Sundays
Mind and spirit is better than wealth
Your tale's still true but we'd rather queue
For pointless man made creations
We think we must have for fulfilment
Like the Xbox, Nintendo or new PlayStation
So I'll tell your tale, not let it go stale
Of excess and morals we derail
We can fix this consumer obsessed damnation
But I doubt we'll find that elusive elation
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness sits still upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
Perhaps my heart just died in your stampede.
The South had Fallen
Horace Greeley came callin'
"Go west and grow up with the country"
Destruction and death
They packed and left
With horses wagons and sundries
Wounded and bruised
Nothing to lose
Their resolve hardened by fire
Disillusioned men
Starting over again
Peace and freedom was all they desired
Hardships faced
Sidearms embraced
Settling throughout the west
Faith as their guide
Restoring some pride
The embodiment of America's best
Rebels and Yanks
Together closed ranks
Built a new heart for a nation
"Go west young man
seek fortune and land"
Romantic remembered sensation
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner