Long Throwaway Poems
Long Throwaway Poems. Below are the most popular long Throwaway by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Throwaway poems by poem length and keyword.
Homeless, she was devastated:
her heart shattered into a thousand pieces,
she sold her body to survive the streets.
And a trail of needle marks tattooed
the arms of this throwaway girl;
whose spirit seemed as broken as her heart.
Crushed under the heel of reality;
she had no money, no future, and no choices:
but the one thing she did have was talent.
She expressed herself through street art,
drawing on another level, outside the box;
for a curious world to critique.
Spray-on paint morphed into her voice
as her muse mirrored what she saw;
in mesmerizing murals of lost hopes and dreams.
Someone posted her artwork online
and she was an instant hit;
going viral overnight.
But fame slowly stripped away her anonymity,
day by day, piece by piece.
And as time revealed the woman behind the art:
she attracted sponsors.
And this broken, gifted girl, metamorphosed:
from an insignificant caterpillar,
into an astonished butterfly;
who discovered she had the wings
with which to fly, all along.
Saint Patrice day
In 1957 my ship docked in the town of Cork (Ireland)
If you think that is a long time ago, you are probably right
but in my head, it was yesterday.
Life was slower back then, cargo was lowered into
donkey carts, there were many mules waiting
we went to a pub, a stone a throwaway and drank Guinness
Never did I tell my mother, but I told her of the Irish girl
I was going to marry had red hair and green eyes
she had the aroma of an angel.
Leisureliness has ended ships leave as ships do
On the shore, she waved, we cried, and people smiled
they didn’t know; no one had loved so deeply as us.
Our letter writing petered out, so many adventures for young
minds I met a girl in Amsterdam, she had a bike.
My mother asked about the Irish girl. Her name was Catlin.
I remember when I was a little girl
And the Rag and Bone man came round
On his cart pulled by a horse
All manner of things could be found
A washing machine with a broken ringer
And a bicycle without a wheel
He used to give my grandma two pence
For a bag of meat bones leftover from a meal
The bones were used for knife handles
And the grease extracted used to make soap
We’d give them to him in a potato sack
Tied around the top with a piece of rope
I remember one day the ragman
Knelt down on the ground
Searching between the paving stones
Where horseshoe nails could be found
Over his tired shoulders
He would carry a small bag
It would contain bones and various metals
Plus numerous pieces of coloured rag
One of the ragmen who came to our street
His name was Henry Moon
If we gave him something for his cart
We were rewarded with a goldfish or a balloon
It was a hard life being a ragman
People now wouldn’t see the sense
In working from early morning till night
For the measly sum of six pence
You still see rag and bone men about
No longer with a horse-drawn cart
Driving around in short wheel-base lorries
They have scrap collecting down to a fine art
They still pick up broken washing machines
And bicycles without a wheel
But some people still prefer to fly-tip
Dumping unwanted items in a field
We live in a throwaway society
No longer reliant on Mr Rag and Bone
It’s easy to get rid of scrap items
We just need to pick up the phone
if it's just lust
if it's just lust
no one goes bust
...then throwaway the rose
and prose
the idle stalk
and blank talk
playing footsies
and tootsies
shaken
and baking
in the oven
of shadow loving ...
find your knees
to please
if it's just lust
no one goes bust
give me your tulips
stop the peeping Judas
and let be mouth sweet
basking in your teeth
to play the piano keys
making our hearts freeze
if it's just lust
no one goes bust
give me your second tulips
of garden petals drops
to the rising sun
and the land of fun
to the sandy beach
where big waves screech
a sprint to the finish
holding on with a grimace
if it's just lust
no one goes bust
give me your third tulips
as the dark side bends and dips
in the face of virgin wool
as hearts and tears pool
as the piano man
comes pitching his grand
if it's just lust
no one goes bust
the night is on fire
tulips fulfilling every desire
the candle is lit
rising, rising every bit
as the tulips sit in her quivering vase
a cherub afterglow on their faces
connie pachecho
2/18/17
I waited for you today
With a heart full of anticipation
With the inclination of acceptance
Of your promising declaration
Instead you made me wait
Creating an anxious state
Thus sealing my fate
Just another throwaway heart
Served on an empty plate
Triggering the pains of rejection
Seems to be my favorite infection
Sporting a generous collection
Of scars and wounds
Worn as my badges of doom
Scattered about
In this barren room
Yet here i wait alone again
Living with false hopes now and then
Oh to even claim to have one close friend
Then maybe this old heart will mend.
And this search for love
Will come to a joyous end
Still i wait.
The cursor blinked as I thought about my response
See in my head it made sense
You get none of the chances of being stabbed in the back plus the added bonus of not having to buy a round
I know I am miserable but I thought let’s see if there is a spark I haven’t seen yet
ME/question.org
When I read it I was intrigued
A meeting friends site you type a secret questions
I took a few days thinking about mine thinking I might be funny what does pokemon taste like
………….why do mad people pretend to be sane
but shook them his question was too enticing ME/who…
ME/…ooowh
that was it I made a friend
we spent neon hours discussing our favourite fiction
The bible or law
Which cartoon animal would win a fight
I still contend Bob would be indestructible
If you could turn into any animal
I said whale
You replied wouldn’t you be gasping for air
We talked dads and whose had injured them the worst
Long gone loves
dogs we lost
People who poisoned our lives
Which politician lies the best
Movies that’s where we gelled
Our lists so comparable
Some were new but now shared by both
Days I kicked off sweat logged shoes
Grabbed a beer
And grunted s to the ceiling
only to smile as
ME/ them
beeped onto my screen
but it niggled me some of his answers definitely caused me a shiver.
As throwaway as this comment
may seem to anyone but i
And bearing in mind my limited
experience and knowledge
thus far in life
I still can say and make this
statement without a shodow
of doubt
That the most smartest , wise
and cleverest person i have
ever met in my life
Was in fact my both my father
and so to my dad
And though by modern definition
he was neither book smart or
well educated
His council was above and beyond
the pale of the life , body and brain
here on earth he inhabited
He knew thing's on reflection
20 year's before they came to
bare and surfaced in reality
Unfortunately for him luck
and good fortune we're
not his forte
Ahead of time in every way
yet nothing went or was
pre-destined to go his way
But he never was shy or hid away
from anything if he truly believed
in it
And even in death he never caved
or gave an inch
He stood his ground till the
bitter yellow cancer end
and what at 1st would be
perceived as stubborn
Was in fact rather a mark
of a man with conviction
in spades
Who would rather dig his
own grave and be buried
alive
Than sell out his soul and
die and stare death in the
face on his own terms
Safe in the knowledge knowing
the reaper despatched to cull
him
Had met and was no more an
intellectual match for him or
on a parr or his level
And that he would get the
final say and last word in
And i know this for a fact
because he was far more clever
and wiser
Than i and life and death has
ever met
And probably the reason he
was stolen and taken back
from us
Way to soon before his time
In order to release him from
this earthly prison that was
unable to realise appreciate
and acknowledge his true genius
Apart from those of us
who we're luckily blessed
enough to have spent and
shared some of his short
time on earth we we're gifted
with him
Offices built but seldom let,
Houses without bricks,
How much higher can rents rise
For a home made of sticks
It would not take a tornado,
Or even a light breeze,
If you can afford a cheap house,
Be careful if you sneeze.
Nothing today is made to last,
That is to our shame,
Unlike the architecture of the past
Designing was their game.
A craft that took dedication
A craft that took time to learn,
It was a vocation.
Not for money they could earn.
Where are all the artisans,
That we are losing every day,
Is it because most people,
Cannot afford to pay,
For fine carpentry
And items made with pride and care,
Created masterly,
With passion and flare.
It is a throwaway society,
Sadly this is true,
Integrity and Morals,
Truth. and justice too.
Nothing seems to matter,
Fewer people seem to care,
Choosing to close their eyes,
At the mayhem going on out there.
At the karaoke bar, a group of close friends laugh,
Each brainless remark heightening their joys;
They drink to the brim as their boy sings off-tune,
“All You Need Is Love”, by the Beatles
'all you need is love'...stupid.
you need air and water and food.
no one NEEDS love... ive never had it.
never given love.
never been loved.
and im fine.
ive survived.
Her mother and father cherish her more than the world it seems,
Kneeling down beside their daughter, to pluck the dandelion,
Promising in this little public park her secret wish will come true;
It only takes an exhalation to send the fuzzy seeds into the air…
wishes by far are the biggest lie you can have…
a wish is nothing more than shattered dreams-
it is the unattainable promise, laughing in your face like a bully…
The public mall is bustling loud today…
Crazy girls with their bouncing bodies and bags,
Couples chatting away as they window shop
Advertisers stopping some, promising the world
i see so much...and so many…
i wonder if any can see me..
do they know im here?
do they care?
we [people] wander earth,
lost in ambitions and lust…
we care not for those around,
the lover, the child, or the stranger...
I walk a lonely road
Passing by many beautiful houses;
Settled for dinner, a family-curtain opens,
They all sit laughing, eating and enjoying each other
Happy...they are all so happy
Family, friends, lovers, children...
Everyone, except me...
lonely and angry and hateful, resentful...hurt.
i am nothing but a shadow to the world...
i am a loser
a burden
unwanted...
a throwaway...
A Collaboration with Rebecca Larkin
My ex-wife is on the cellphone
Tiring me out
She lives on Facebook
Her life is images and itineraries
She’s a good woman
But I see way too much
Of her food nowadays.
America has gone and its
Probably not coming back
Some see that as a good thing
That’s depressing
But I think in many ways
We are all globally bereft
No matter what
Life has its challenges
We wear masks
Some are throwaway
Others remain
Obviously
I can’t say much
About you know what
And it would be forward of me
To speak out and outrage
The ever watchful
You know who’s
Least I find myself
Deemed to be
A you know -
And maybe even
A whatever
Wolves now roam
Sniffing out
The questioning
And the voiceless
They are leading
The disconnected and willing
Into a glorious future
And everyone
Is a hero now