Long Touch and go Poems
Long Touch and go Poems. Below are the most popular long Touch and go by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Touch and go poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm a master chef when it comes to cooking
That age old favourite Kraft Dinner
Don't know how nutritious they claim it to be
But it certainly doesn't make us thinner
As foods goes, t'was a staple in our house
For years it cost a lowly 12 cents
But that was way back in the good old days
Grocery bills now are immense
Coffee for a dime, a sandwich for quarter
A pair of socks for 29 cents
Now we need to take out a personal loan
Surviving is a touch-and-go event
My very first job was as a teller in a bank
Earning a huge $18 a week
Over the moon when I got my first paycheck
Back then my life was complete
What more could anyone have really asked for
The world was a beautiful place
I'd love to feel that euphoric feeling once more
Great joy would beam from my face!
© Jack Ellison 2013
The truth was that I hardly knew him. I knew about him -- a little. He was a private man, and I respected that. He made my sister happy and that’s what mattered; after all, they’d been together for thirty-one years.
This last year was 'touch-and-go' -- and then I got the call I feared. She somehow managed to say the words... his heart had given out and now he was gone.
My little sister had become a widow too.
. the ruthless silence
. smothers a long winter night
. ~ his empty chair speaks
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2023
When my wife left,
I mourned for her.
We are no longer,
The way we were.
The loss changed every
Single thing I know.
I linger in eternity,
In touch and go.
The way I spoke,
What I ate, it all changed.
My mental state,
Is crazy and deranged.
How I listen, what I watch
On TV, it is all different.
I'm depressed, I mumble,
I'm incoherent.
My circle of friends
It is not the same.
Nothing familiar
And warm remain.
My people skills,
Altered by the loss.
It has all come down,
To a coin toss.
My finances, my reputation,
My status.
My heart is black
And calloused.
My self-worth, self-esteem,
Even my rhythm.
I don't know how
I ended up the victim.
The way I breathe, I think,
My functions.
Wave after wave
Of repercussions.
My hobbies, my interests,
My sense of security.
My attitude, my beliefs,
My maturity.
My sense of humor, the essence
Of my womanhood.
Wrecked my emotions,
And all that was good.
I'm expected too just
Get on with my life.
My entire existence in
The hands of my wife.
It is horrific, life-altering
Experience to digest.
The air leaves you, a weight
Upon my chest.
How I speak, what I say,
My vision.
Every single thing in my life
Affected by her decision.
She devoured a
Human soul.
Just, thought she
Should know.
Turbo1904 ?
Have you ever noticed that beautiful woman,
the one who’s been single for years?
In this world where connection is at our fingertips,
where voices ping and echo across social feeds,
still, she stands alone.
It begs the question, doesn’t it?
Why? How? Who and where?
As if throwing a penny in the air and wondering
Would anybody care?
Maybe it's a choice.
Some women crave company, the warmth of another,
while others find solace in their own company,
reveling in quiet strength.
And so, the years pass, blurred and vivid all at once.
Sometimes, the familiar “booty call” will light up her screen,
that well-worn line, “Are you free later?”
And yes, most times she is,
until tonight.
Tonight, there’s a shift, subtle yet sharp,
a harrowing change, a quiet revolution.
Tonight, she understands:
she’s more than just a fleeting rendezvous.
She’s tired of being single, yes,
but even more, she’s tired of men
who hold her attention only long enough to satisfy themselves,
of being “wifey for a night,”
if lucky, for a weekend.
Choices, choices, choices.
The single life offers a carousel of quick encounters,
a rush and fade, touch-and-go,
a night with Mr. Booty Call,
who’s gone before dawn without a second glance.
Or there’s a choice
to seek a diamond in the rough,
a light so bright it pierces the shadows,
awakening what’s been buried, hidden, waiting.
In the end, she realizes, only she can decide.
Not to settle, but to seek, to stand,
to let her worth be her own
not a question mark or a passing fancy.
This is her night of self-definition,
a night to reclaim her story.
There are pets and then there are people in fur coats. My Angel Face was a people in a fur coat. She loved to go riding in the car. She would put on her seat belt and mommy would be put on hers. Then it was off to hit the road to see what we could see. With delight to the bank for a cookie. Angel Face seemed to know when there were no cars-no red lights in front of us. She would take her left paw/leg and press down on my right thigh. She would press down until I would go. She would do her touch and we would go faster. Touch my leg again and we would go even faster. We never figured out how Angel Face knew my leg worked the car. She wanted speed and she got it. My Angel Face was a people in a fur coat.
Date Written: 3/31/2021 Note: True Story
Submitted For:Your 2021 N-A Choice 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by:William Kekaula Date: 04/28/2021
N/A Title:"Touch And Go" This or That, Vol 1 Poetry Contest Sponsored by:Edward Ibeh
Well over a hundred years ago
The illustrious Vincent Willem Van Gogh
A genius somewhat like Michelangelo
With thousands of artworks in his cluttered studio
From the sublime to the grotesque for show
Might have been better off working as a gigolo
Because he died a pauper on skid row
In those days artists had no impresario
To make sure they lived high in a chateau
Dining on champagne and escargot
So it was quite a different scenario
That brilliant artists lived totally incognito
Often exchanging a painting for a meal on a patio
Or selling their wares door to door on tiptoe
Carrying under their arm their impressive portfolio
So it was for Vincent Willem Van Gogh
Misunderstood and suffering from vertigo
Mentally unstable and drinking heavily in Bordeaux
Depressed, impulsive and insane – a tragic combo
Cut off a piece of his ear, his sanity was touch and go
A troubled soul, life for him was a wild rodeo
Obsessive passion, far from living the status quo
His life and work intertwined shimmying like a yo-yo
Feeling the stranger, he shot himself overcome with sorrow
Post mortem everyone wanted to hear the myth of Van Gogh
With his vivid colors of burgundy, ochre and indigo
In his honor every year the orchestra features the oboe
And while the Italians chant magnifico
Everyone else cheers Bravo! Bravo!
How times have changed for poor Van Gogh
From a mere hundred years ago ~
Read on air by invitation ~ March 21, 2020 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 1st place 2026, 2nd place 2021, 3rd place 2025, 3rd place 2022, 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on August 15, 2021 for YOUR BEST MONORHYME contest sponsored by WILLIAM KEKAULA - RANKED 1ST
The donkey was kicking up a ruckus all right
Hee hawing and making all kinds of a mess
We told him to hang on to the barn oh so tight
There was a bucket stuck on his head.
We ran for the doctor who came right away.
We told him to have patience or he might be dead.
My sister patted the donkey, and I helped Doc Boff.
It was touch and go with lots of kicking.
But at last we finally got that bucket off.
Doc Boff tried to reason with the donkey letting him know
He should not do it again,
But unfortunately, that donkey was unbelievably slow.
It was the second time that week I said with a cough.
The doctor picked up the bucket and hid it in the corner.
If he cannot reach it, you won’t have to take it off.
But that’s how we feed him I argued my case.
Doc Boff gave me a forgiving smile.
Get a bigger bucket, and you will save face.
There was a man named Carlton, who came
from a rural town.
He was well-liked by all within his community,
he was the town judge.
Everyone gave him much respect. However,
he had another group that he was the founder
and head chair of.
This group was a close group that didn't allow
outsiders.
They didn't accept anyone that didn't look and
act like them.
On a dark and stormy night, Carlton had a bad
car accident.
He was banged up real bad; he lost a lot of blood.
And he needed a blood transfusion STAT.
He also had a heart condition, so he was on the
top of the heart transplant waiting list.
It was touch and go for Carlton; they didn't know
if he would live long enough to receive a new
heart.
But in the nick of time, they found him a heart.
A month later, he was released from the hospital.
As time went by, his family and friends started
to notice significant changes.
From the food he ate, the music he listened to.
But the most significant change was his new
friends.
He started hanging around with “ Them.”
Carlton resigned as founder and the head chair
of the group he was apart of immediately.
Carlton had a change of heart two ways on that
life-altering day.
Alexis Y.
03/4/2021
I was pulled from a swimming pool when I was 7 years old
gasping, frightened, cold
must learn to be water safe before I go in over my head
I was struck by a car when I was 9
bruised, shaken, embarrassed, but very much alive
must learn to look both ways
I was told my pneumonia was touch and go when I was 14
I'd never seen a doctor look so worried before
must learn to rest
I took a corner too fast on my bike when I was 17
cut, bleeding, startled
must learn to ride more slowly around corners
I was rescued by a lifeguard at the beach when I was 22
frightened by the immense power of the ocean currents
must learn to respect the rip tide
I was thankful for the seatbelt in a collision when I was 28
rattled by the poor judgement of the drunk driver
must learn to drive defensively and never presume safety
I emerged unscratched after spinning 360 on a wet freeway at 47
protected by a guardian angel from a potential fatality
must learn to check my tire treads and drive slowly
Not knowing the preciousness of life
until it was nearly snatched away
dear life, I love you so!
written 3 Aug 2020
feelings flood my mind as I speed,
at many thousand miles air flow,
hope is dwindling, would I succeed?
could be a case of touch and go!
white clouds look on quite helplessly,
jittering firefly rumbles low,
left engine smokes perilously,
landing it would be touch and go.
four hundred lives could well be lost,
peaks of mountains covered in snow,
fear and doubt loom, better think fast,
to get across is touch and go!
past the mountains, riding on prayers,
I turn a corner circle slow,
good pilots must be good stayers,
hope in heart but still touch and go.
few miles down, see flickering lights,
runway ahead, bright dots in row,
I slant the wings, ground in my sights,
land!!! Thank God for helping me so!!
Premium contest winner (8)
Written 02/April/2021
This or that Vol 1 contest
Touch and go topic
Edward Ibeh sponsored
8 syllables each line