Long Up the stairs Poems
Long Up the stairs Poems. Below are the most popular long Up the stairs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Up the stairs poems by poem length and keyword.
Trick – or - Treat
In my armchair
By the fire
I drifted off to sleep
Down and down and down I fell
Into a well so deep
While outside the shadows
Of the night began to creep
Along the ground
Among the leaves
That whirled and twirled and leaped
Then - suddenly
I was awakened
By a rap tapping on my door
And woke up so bewildered
In a place
I had never been before
As monsters seeped
Out through the cracks
Across the hardwood floor
I screamed and screamed
Until I lost my voice -
And then I
Screamed some more
I watched in horror
From the ceiling
Where from a rope I hung
From a chandelier
Above their jagged teeth
And drooling tongues
Then I saw one slither
Up the stairs
And through the rungs
And when he finally
Grabbed me
I felt my last breath
Leave my lungs.
I saw myself
Below me
When the monster
Threw me to the floor
Where upon
They all joined in
To eat a feast
Of human smorgasbord
On legs and arms and torso
They gorged and gorged and gorged
Leaving just my head
Insanely grinning
Like a pumpkin gourd
An then I heard a rap a tap
A rap a tapping at the door
And woke up screaming
In a daze
Just where I was before
And through the window
I could see them
Behind those faces
That they wore
Monsters - screaming! Trick or treat
It’s Halloween once more
Happy Halloween
Love, Lainie
Ah, the wistful daydreams about my lost youth!
Astride upon a white stallion, riding into a distant past
I miss youth like a barren, parched desert misses pouring rain
I wish I could coax father time into restoring my vernal exuberance
My aging body is starting to betray me. I can't see quite as clearly
I can't move as quickly. And I sure can't run up the stairs as fast
As I used to. My memory isn't quite as sharp anymore. Each morn
I awake, full of aches and pain. I'm a squeaky wheel in need of grease
You needn't strain your eyes to see what my age wants you to see
I have greying hair, crows feet, lines across my forehead, the works
My testosterone is shot to smithereens. My virility is steadily waning
But who's complaining? I'm loving life. There's a lot of it left to live, still
Aging is hard to accept, but I must. I see my wrinkles
In the mirror, and I smile because I wear them well. I'm still me!
No one stays young forever. I am but a flower no longer blooming
As beautifully in springtime, but c'est la vie. I'm still thriving!
Youthful folks may deride and dismiss me as over the hill...
A Phoenix with clipped wings, thrashing about the ashes
Sucking me in like quicksand, but I'm still alive and kicking
Look how far I've made it! I have something they envy---wisdom!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 2 Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest(Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/01/2019
A Contest On Aging Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Date written and posted: 06/02/2019
I had searched for him earlier on,
I needed his urgent assistance,
He was supposed to accompany me to an office and arbitrate on my behalf,
Then I would be able to submit the necessary materials,
He was the only one who could advocate for me.
I lay down on the rugged floor,
It was the morning of the next day,
I was in a dilemma,
It was the day to defend my project,
All my materials were still with me,
Some of these were supposed to be submitted and acknowledged,
Then I would be able to follow the pathway to reach my goal,
It was time for the defence,
I was still on the other side of the fence.
As I lay down,
Dressed up and prepared,
An inner voice urged me to leave for school,
I could hear it,
It echoed in me,
Immediately I stood up and left for campus,
As I got to my faculty,
The voice came to me again,
It told me to go up the stairs to the room where the defence was taking place,
Though I didn’t argue with the voice I considered it an unwise thing to do,
Still, I had to do its bidding,
As I approached the room,
The man was coming down the stairs toward me,
I was deeply surprised,
I quickly explained everything to him,
He accompanied me to submit the necessary materials,
He was able to meditate on my behalf,
I successfully defended my project,
An inner voice helped me.
June 13, 2025.
Little Johnny came home from school with a bellyache
Naturally Mom feared the most recent local outbreak
Johnnie thankfully had no fever, she suspected it might be a fake
But strange and most bizarre Johnnie had no appetite for steak
Or even for his ultimate favourite strawberry shortcake
The next morning Johnnie barely could awake
Didn’t want to go to school because of a backache
Mom thought the cure might just be a nice big pancake
Or maybe the warm chocolate muffins that she’d bake
But Johnnie just wanted to curl up with his pet rattlesnake
In the afternoon, when Little Johnny mentioned a toothache
Mom reached for the thermometer in case the first time was a mistake
She sent Johnnie for a nap and sat pensive as she took her coffee break
Out the window she saw askew the mounds of leaves to rake
She got up and tiptoed up the stairs to see what was at stake
She found Johnny pouting wide-eyed and awake
As she extended to him a warm loving handshake
In her heart she felt a sudden jolt of earthquake
Poor Little Johnny was growing up at double take
And suffering acutely from his very first heartbreak
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
“Hello,
How are you doing so far?
Good to know yeah…”
You wanna know
What lies ahead?
My heart bleeds…
“Hello? You hear me?”
She hung up the phone and then I walk away in utter humiliation and sadness, then I pick up a necklace and I still have hope in mind. God speaks through me with blessed words…
With such blessed words
The phone rings
I answer
Okay then…
I got your attention…
we can break through
The chaos
The broken dreams
Remember this:
“I love you
And He’ll relieve you from the flu
Take care,
Bye”
And then I hung up and I regretted it ever since. I wanted to actually talk to Amy and she hung up on me. I went straight up the stairs and closed the bedroom door behind me…I think of better thoughts – God the most high saves me with His helping hand and lead me to a brilliant pathway.
Please help me not to sway away
From this relieving reality…
God is there…everywhere I walk
Whenever I talk
Whenever I listen
Whenever I glisten with pride
I submit to Him like a bride
I sang some songs, referring to God
Oh my God,
I love you so…
Show me where Your wind blow…
Oh…oh…yeah…
Unlock my soul with a golden key
God’s the key…that opens the door for me…
In an empty room sits a figure
A shadow of one’s self
A young boy beaten and ashamed
Over shadowed by the narcissist
His cruel and unrelenting anger boils over
The chosen target in his sights
The boy sat alone in a blank room
Stripped of its contents in the name of love
The heavy footsteps coming up the stairs
Counting the steps, the creak of number 8
The lock unbolted, the door swings open
And there he stands, my father
A lunge forward, he grabs my wrist
The tight grip of his hand, cold and moist
Forcefully dragging me down the stairs, the boys legs hitting every step
Anticipation heightened, a shoe, a belt, a cane, a hand
The terrified boy crumbles
Tears fall, legs tremble
Fury evident on his face
Forced to my feet
Pulled down my shorts, bare skin on show
Fear on show as this man draws his hand back
The instant sting
A burning hot hand print
As this man towers over my small stature
He draws back his arm
BANG! Again and again
The boys body collapses
The boy whales in pain
Sensations reverberating on my skin
The burning begins to prickle
Tingling and sharp
He’s not satisfied with his work
The peripheral sees a boot heading my way
A connection in my ribs
Instantly gasping for every breath
A boy so weak used to give his abuser strength
His actions keep me quiet, keep me small and afraid
A choice to humiliate a defenceless boy
Left feeling disorientated, no anger in his voice, no emotion
He sees my pain, my tears
His hand reaches for mine
Just to drag me back to the quiet room where I’m his captive
4 walls, a bottle of water and a bucket, click goes the door
Heavy footsteps disappear from earshot
Silence feels heavy, feels safe and temporary
Left with my own thoughts
Naked and beaten
Body turning from red to purple
Physical pain fades to a dull pain
Freedom to shed tears, to share my pain with my own thoughts
Permission to breathe in the silence
The next time could be worse
No excuses or reasons required
A child knows no different
I’m to blame for being born
In the tapestry of life, needles and threads of gold,
With each sewing motion, a dream takes hold.
Brave and bold,
Each stitch is controlled.
The dawn brings a sweet dew,
As the mist plays peekaboo.
A new day to weave our dreams,
Sipping tea at the café with the Queen.
Delicacies of macaroons and perfect bites,
Beckoning you under the soft, bright lights.
An array of desserts, a sweet tooth’s delight,
So many choices to entice.
The stitch of kindness takes hold,
Building a world of wonder, I am told.
Old worn hands and fingers,
Weaving a bonnet, the touch lingers,
Caressing the stitches as they unfold,
Creating beauty in threads of gold.
Hands intertwined as we say grace,
The tapestry of life is as fragile as lace.
From the day of our birth,
Our breath takes hold on this earth.
For every heartbeat, a dream takes hold,
Whimsical baby steps, one stitch at a time,
Create a magical world of lullabies and rhymes.
Where unicorns and mermaids lull little princesses to sleep,
Little boys chasing each other up the street,
Hero capes used as bed covers,
For sleepy children at sleepovers.
Legos scattered everywhere,
As we tiptoe up the stairs.
A stitch of promise as we take the leap.
Into a deep sleep.
To a world of magic, where fairies and elves
Are stitched in the fabrics of ourselves.
Scream louder in the brain,
Work hard to deaden the pain...
The gnawing at the roots...
The scratching noises take me to the lost sanity that will never gain victory again,
Sanity? Victory? I scoff...
In the mirror upon the wall, up the stairs down the hall,
Images past I see... fading, fading... slowly...
I see a man I never knew. Deep inside are cries of muffled sorrow.
The hurts of being lost with out direction,
Hope... again I scoff...
The darkness filtered from disgust and disbelief is no longer diluted with dust particles of light,
But the density is pure...
Pure darkness that not only reaches deep into the heart but engulfs the madness,
The madness that I call myself.
There has never been peace in this madness,
Only delusions of happiness that seem to twist any reality into unrecognizable fate.
A direction that spirals with the darkness and has the funnelled power of a twister,
Bringing destruction in its path...
Yet, in the midst of the delusion a small spark of curiosity catches the eye,
And for a brief moment...
As in the eye of the storm...
By Pernell Rodocker
Form:
Dishes in the sink
Never dirtied by me
How they got there
It sure beats me.
I went to bed, same time last night
In the kitchen in the morning, the typical fright
Stacked high, from places unknown
Hang on a minute, the bloody kids are home.
Thanks for the tea mum, were all off out
We will do these dishes, honestly and devout
They sneak back in and head up the stairs
In the morning these dishes, are growing bloody hairs
Maybe their creating an ecology system
Ask them to wash them, they sure ain't listening
Maybe its time to kick them out
But being loving parents, that i very much doubt.
The sun shines through the window
of my loft as I sit at my desk.
Downstairs, silent and the cat
runs up the stairs to me
Sunday, a day off from work.
Sunday, a day off from work
my many lives come back to me
cleaning himself, the cat
as he sits in front of the desk
a world outside my window.
A world outside my window
I see a fresh fall of snow from my desk
wandering around the room, the cat
a moment of inspiration for me
as I gaze outside the window.
As I gaze outside the window
a life of recollections speak to me
and I take time to remember that
times of serenity are best
when the sun shines through the window.
I awaken
to winter
reflections