Long Sweep up Poems
Long Sweep up Poems. Below are the most popular long Sweep up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sweep up poems by poem length and keyword.
It blew so gently it barely ruffled my hair.
I paused to brush a displaced strand away
and returned to my complacency and routine.
It came in from the west and startled my
existence. It disturbed normality and
wafted discontent upon my soul, raising questions:
new uncertainty in the safety I had known.
Winds of change, incidious in their arrival.
A portent of the twister to follow.
Hollowed heart. Drained of emotion.
All notion of love borne away on the breeze
of increduity, and disbelief at the crumbling
of a once so strong rampart of security.
All gone now. I am left to sweep up the
debris - pick up the pieces of the heart
s-h-a-t-t-e-r-e-d by the storm.
Now I must try to rebuild it.
To restore some sort of order.
Impossible? Maybe, but perhaps this wind
has changed it all for ever.
Is that a silver lining I can see?
see the birds in circled
flight
gliding and drifting with the wind
this way, that way, way up high together
high high touching the azure sky
lost inside white puffed up sailing clouds
then, just falling
fall and falling here they all come
sweep up in a whirl
soaring in a silent bird ballet
twirl
do a perfect figure eight
around around again
who is the leader and who is the follower
and like the birds in circled flight at dawn
my words fly up into the sky on wings (of love)
glide with the wind
then, do come back onto my page
not quite finished words
with you
so so impatient you are to fly wild
I will try to gather you up
anchor you if I must
oh, do stay still . . .
now- my dears I am done with you
time to see you fly
gliding and drifting with the wind
way up high
touch the azure sky (fall and fall)
whirl and twirl again again
you will figure it out
yes, in circled flight spread your wings just
fly . . . words.
________________________
May 31, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/just fly words
Copyright Protected, ID 18- 1027-408-01
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Best Free Verse in May 2018
Sponsor, Laura Loo
First Place
____________________________
For the contest, Poetry For The Sake of Poetry
sponsor, John Lawless
Fourth Place
The day is winding down and destiny is running around; the day is winding down and everyone is moving up and down the town, the streets are crowded and the people are divided the trucks are loaded with delivery goods and the messengers are walking around with pinewood and cotton gauze tied up in a plastic bag. The weather is fine but the people don’t have a dime.
The cars keep rolling down the street honking their horns; heaven knows what is going on; they are spreading out things on the lawn, is it a yard sale or an auction, there’s got to be some form of reaction. The prices are high for large and small equipment and they are selling like hot bread; it a sale indeed with brand new items taking from the store; the original owners are closing their doors and everything must go, from kitchen sink to bathroom tubs and they have a gorilla skirt to sweep up the dirt.
Some people have no destination but they are moving anyway, they believe that faith will show them the way, with just a book and a note pad and a few pieces of clothes in their bags the couple join the caravan and leave everything behind to start a new life in the unknown.
Some people are bold indeed and start rolling up their sleeve with a fish waddling in their boats and the irony jumping about. The whale is very stubborn but it has message for me and you; your long-awaited dream is about to come through.
It is blow out Friday and everyone is on the run, they have traveled for miles just to have fun. The fountain is flowing and the morning is glowing and the people are dancing in the street; there is a big parade too and big jamboree next door and a thousand horse charging around the bend breaking down the fence and trampling everyone in the den, I have never seen anything like this before, I had to open the door and take ten steps until I reach the elevator.
But mostly, mental illness is annoying.
Like drool all over the place.
A drafty hallway.
Imparts a feeling that can be measured but no one tries.
Sweep up.
Piles of dust turn to more dust.
Drifting along.
Is like a torn finger nail except is emotional.
But mostly, mental illness is an oddball.
Joking around, with nothing.
Dancing as if there’s such thing.
Takes me away like ribbons of spaghetti.
But mostly.
Dry mouth.
Trembling awfully.
Monster drool and slime.
I don’t consider what’s happening a “storm.”
Memories.
Just this oddball reminiscing.
Like cleaning a bathroom with a toothpick.
Imparts a feeling that I tried to measure.
Stabbing feelings.
But mostly, mental illness-
Costs way too much for no reason.
This has been a huge mistake
All you ever do is take
Without the care or concern
You left me alone to burn
In a fire pit of despair
It is all becoming clear
Your a user and a cheat
Everyday is a repeat
OF the awful day before
Loving you has been a chore
I no longer want to do
I am just fed up with you
Your being thrown to the curb
Your attitude is just absurd
Thrown out like old stinky trash
Into a fiery pit of ash
I can just sweep up and toss
Now all the demanding cost
It always took to be your girl
Is gone in one big garbage whirl
As I hear the grinding of
The end of your abusive love
As the trash truck leaves a hump
Of your nonsense in the dump
Each morning we’d sweep up words,
and shove them under rugs,
or coffee tables.
Some words escaped to the garden,
where they poisoned the peach tree.
Paint on shell-shocked walls blistered,
the cat became so high-strung.
that it hid under a neighbor's roof
and had quite forgot how to stalk birds.
We confided to a priest,
who denounced adultery and lust,
while openly scratching his ball-sack.
When our son came home from university,
we lied brightly to his questioning face,
hiding our eyes behind court documents.
Eventually, exhausted,
we slept peacefully in each other’s arms,
joined forever,
by three thousand miles of distance.
On a day like this I lather my face,
Scrape off the stubble of yesterday, seems like a waste of time.
For on a day like this the chores to be done
Surely require more hours of light than the sun can shine.
Gotta live this way to believe it when I say
That on a day like this the road to the mill
Winds through a dirty old bare-knuckle town where it will be sung
That in a place like this the boss is a jerk.
Down on the threshing floor early birds chirp in the working tongue,
Saying, “It’s all right. We don’t mind the morning light.”
But for a night like her I’d call it a day;
Sweep up the leavings and leave with a smile as I say, “So long.”
And on a night like her I’m staying at home,
Finding the little things spring water sweet, the aroma strong.
Darlin’, it’s all right if I fail to see the light,
‘cause for a night like her I’d dream up a plan;
Practice my fiddle to play while I swing from a chandelier.
But on a night like her, she’s music enough.
Won’t break my violin tryin’ no stunt flyin’ stuff ‘round here.
Put your doubts away and believe it when I say
I’ve faced some days like this too dull and weak
To scrape away the stubble,
But a night like her lasts cheek-to-cheek.
She makes it worth the trouble.
Free Verse On Love
Our twain hearts be thou one,
a fixture in Heaven from the
start, inseparable - never
to part, where, our sole
hearts impart, upon
blessed Earth,
forever be,
united,
Thou wilt inspire stars to sparkle,
upon thine Eden' countenance,
albeit, a useless matter as
they hast tender hints
of thee lingering,
in ages past,
ere stands,
a youth,
again,
Hence, thou wilt coerce a meandering
river to attune a melody, art, sway
its water kissing banks, and pet
its rocks, to enrich harmony,
and outstretched willows
sweep up swimming
wildflowers met,
bloom scents,
be just as
sweet,
Thou wilt soothe the gods to dedicate
songs to thee, play rhapsody of
both harp and lyre, atop Mt.,
Olympus be heard a
righteous accord,
lyrically well,
appointed,
words,
***United again, sweet words...
2020 February 23
*1st Place*
STRAND no 690,ANY THEME,ANY FORM
~~Brian Strand
Here comes the Boomer remover,
A geriatric hoover,
come to sweep up your complacency
And puncture your dismissivenes
so don't dissolve into hissy fits,
Or lectures on snowflake millennials,
Your snide and tested perennials,
'End the lockdown now,
Long live the new normal' is your siren cry,
but another, better world is coming,
It's no use trying to deny,
The pulse of history is running,
Out of your control,
So be a part of the solution,
you've got to choose your role,
And reconnect with evolution,
Now, tell me what's your 'verse?
No point in trying to fake it
We know nothing could be worse
Than your 'business as usual' fits,
No matter how beguiling;
Ecocide must consume us,
the original sin that leads to the fall,
Is that the legacy of the boomers?
So forget the status quo,
too late now for reconciling,
Sit down uncle, you're blocking my flow.
clean out
the closet
and unhook your woes
from all hangers.
all are much too soiled
to be worn
by your disillusioned heart.
sweep up the debris
and clear out
the heaping pile
of suppressed pain
and untrustworthiness
taking up
all the space
in your broken heart
to create enough room
to let people in
once again,
for love's light
to shine through.
Second Chance For Your N-A Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written: 06/19/2022