Long Sweatshirts Poems
Long Sweatshirts Poems. Below are the most popular long Sweatshirts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sweatshirts poems by poem length and keyword.
From sunup to sundown
it was indeed a weird day;
it seemed as if the sun rose
wearing dimming shades
and as if the wind had been
blown off course or locked out.
The bold-green leaf trees, hedges,
shrubs, and lawn grasses just stood
there motionless as if they were
aping their canvassed or woven cloth/
plastic counterparts that year-round
highlighted the locations of graves.
In the dimness of it all, even shadows
had a time with their shading reflections;
and the bi-polar tempt had fun teasing
t-shirts and sweatshirts with a strange
“lukeness” that was neither hot nor cold
nor warm or cool. A special Virginia trait!
The scary-like graveyard silence
of this weird lingering day was
pinged periodically by echoes of
hidden birds in trees and sometimes
the echoes of ducks in a distant pond;
it seemed as if no other sound had
the echoing energy to pierce the silence.
As this taunting tired day slowly faded
into the coming darkness of night, suddenly
I realized that nothing had happened to me
Throughout this weird incomprehensive
lingering day, and that my heart was beating
with a shooing rhythm of allegorical awareness.
This day of the week too had been one
that the Lord had made with his undying love
and had blessed me to be perpendicular in it;
thus, it became apparent to me that I need
to rejoice and be glad to be a part of another
day of God’s imaging shared beauties of life.
In gratitude, I now share this day with you
that like me, you too may understand that
although it may seem at times that God does
not give us what it is we want, he has never
failed to give us the things we’ve had needs for.
Child-like enthusiasm at Christmas time is not easily duplicated.
Hearty laughter surrounds a family reminiscing about other Christmases.
Rich pastries, cookies and candy only found once a year decorate a table.
Imaginative glimpses of future Christmases are in the forefront of newlyweds
Santa Claus cannot overshadow The Son in the homes of the reverent
There are Christmas headbands, sweatshirts, necklaces and earrings bringing joy
Many people are working to bring cheer to the needy, sick and homeless
Angels decorate Christmas trees and church pageants on both hemispheres
Sharing and caring in a Good Samaritan way make this week truly special
I have some weird feelings.
The feeling when you run away from home and you forgot your umbrella…
…But it hasn’t rained yet, so maybe you’ll be ok…
I’m too young to have learned to pack enough sweatshirts.
You want to have enough clothes packed.
Forever.
Don’t forget to bring a toothbrush.
I have to find some way to remember…
Smell some flowers you’ve never smelled.
They might be poisonous.
But that doesn’t matter these days.
Heaven is when you have a weird feeling.
Wearing an old t-shirt.
Reaching for-
The accident.
Waiting for my car to be repaired.
They said it would take awhile.
Maybe my car will be ok.
I never got a call from my insurance company though.
Maybe my car is alive out there.
But that’s the last I heard from the other side.
The grandkids are heading to sleepaway camp,
Their clothing all labeled and packed,
Plus all of the extras they may or not need -
Way too much, as a matter of fact.
They bring pillows and blankets and flashlights and fans
And shin guards and sandals and cleats
And towels and bug spray and sunscreen and stamps
And shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste and sheets.
They need rain gear and sleeping bags, books and canteens,
A laundry bag, backpack and socks,
Plus sweatshirts and jackets and underwear (lots!)
And their sneakers and rain boots and Crocs.
Of course there are bathing suits, t-shirts and shorts
And sweatpants and PJ’s and fleece,
But there are no iPads or Switches or phones
So some wonders, I guess, never cease.
The days spent at camp will fly quickly until
All that stuff gets repacked to go home,
With some missing or ruined or filthy, but that
Is a topic for some future poem.
the trunk of my car hides things I do not remember owning
sixteen Christmas presents that probably did not get delivered
because this is mid-May and Christmas is in December or January
three or four sweatshirts I diligently searched for in February
but did not find until today
notebook paper pages have been torn into bitty bits by mice
I am glad they enjoyed trunk of my car this winter
It is weird the rodents did not nestle in my scarves and hats
knitted in soft yarns in blues and whites
I sort out my car trunk for twenty-six and a half minutes
It seemed like two days of dull boring sorting
I resolve to sort the rest of it in the next year or so
All I needed was space for my suitcase.
Vexation seeps through sighs
As the pen finds comfort
Sharing the same story
Nonsensical pretty boys
With smoke cloud habits
And bloodshot ponderings
Vaunting on their
Newsworthy delinquency
With incessant metal bar consequences
Promulgating in the same breath
they’re gaining
New ground
Breaking the cleanse
Of poisoning
Their liver
And feeling the linear
Coldness of a countertop
On their nose
With a half glass of water
In a ring of loneliness
On their nightstand
The gulp of insomnia
Rudely digs its hook of candidness
In your empathic being
Melodramatic memories
Of empty dinner table
Upbringings
Spending school nights
Placing cigarettes
In plastic bottles
With front porch
Heart to hearts
With their second self
Pulling the sleeves
Of sweatshirts once borrowed
Over tattooed knuckles
Shivering against the disbelief
That loyalty in this town
Is only face to face
Rehashing
first heartbreaks
With the outlook
That mistrust follows
Demons
That look just like you
The way you
Introduce yourself
With skintight beliefs
Low cut distractions
Met with
Amorous disposition
Abrade their thoughts
Of you from tantalizing
To discomfiture
And their ears
Can’t handle
Opprobrium especially from their friends
When you would
Put fingers
In yours like an obstinate child
Just to keep
Looking at them
With oblivious blissful daydreams
Even if you were
Stumbling drunk
Out of their broken front door the night before
After learning
They sent flowers to someone else
Like a man with his paramour
Leaving your existence
In a blighted state
Surrounded by empty walls
For
They
Took it all
But don’t worry
The guilt of breaking your heart
Is easier for them to swallow
Than the nausea
Traveling up their throat
With the spew of your adoration
Once again, it’s that time of the year,
A time to reflect and a time to cheer.
Fellowship with the people here,
Embrace the moment near and dear.
The holiday festivities are upon us,
Holiday themes will soon surround us.
First with variating colors of the leaves,
To snow covering various naked trees.
Everyone has their favorite season,
Each one is different for a reason.
Some love the season for a sport,
Other’s it’s only the weather of course.
As the fall season experiences revival,
Sleeves and sweatshirts return in style.
The main sports’ that many have missed,
Have returned and are on top of the list.
Across the ground the leaves are strewn
set down by rushing wind.
A multicolored carpet yellow, orange, red and brown
crushing crunchy beneath my feet.
A late evening walk cautious steps in the dark
under a pale moon and twinkling stars.
A chill drops down cold and promising
an end to autumn reign.
Decayed foliage wafts heavy musk
in the cool evening air.
Fully harbored memories dancing images in rising smoke
stacks of fires burn within.
Sensuous the cold embrace invigorating bodies unarmed
by hooded sweatshirts and fleece.
The ground hardens quick frost sets low on the grass
before the morning sun rise.
Pale and white the glowing ball breaches the horizon
as the north east wind races in.
From trees fall wild and set free the remainder
leaves of summer and fall
as autumn bids its last goodbye.
He was the best influencer in the world and he knew it.
In the neighborhood he was a star, an Internet hit.
Unconditionally loved his family; watched them sleep.
Had his large arms in every situation, no matter how deep.
He found the Internet one night when the others went to bed.
Logged onto Snap Chat and Instagram, and took photo of his head.
By a quartet to four, he had a following of three hundred and two.
He had followers now, so he added a video of himself too.
Daily he sneaked into closets and threw on clothes galore.
He wore sweatshirts and helmets, and dresses and more.
The checks started coming in like out of thin air.
Before he knew it, Godzilla was a flipping millionaire!
He shared his money with his family. Two kids and a dad.
They had a wife and mom once, but she had gone bad.
She tried to come back when she found out about the money
But by then Dad and Godzilla each had a new honey.