Long Vacates Poems
Long Vacates Poems. Below are the most popular long Vacates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vacates poems by poem length and keyword.
The College Caravan
Last night we loaded the minivan with her
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chest of plastic drawers
stuffed with clothing, toiletries, school supplies, and posters.
While our vehicle is tightly packed, her room stands hollow;
drained of stuff and spirit, except for the furniture she left behind
like the last icicle melting unnoticed in the spring thaw.
Morning’s excitement, today’s foreseen guest, found her passkey
so early, she displaced the alarm clock, announcing her presence.
On the verge of adventure, our cramped van vacates the driveway,
eager to meet the other jammed vehicles joining our journey.
Sporadic chatter splinters moments of spurned monotony,
spanning the miles amassing in our rearview mirror until …
A hatchback hauling a heavy load leads our line exiting for the rest
stop, where the parking lot hosts vehicle after vehicle stuffed with
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, and chests of plastic drawers …
Our re-entry acceleration runs smoothly, courtesy of a
clamshell-covered car graciously slowing to permit our advance.
From sedans to SUV’s, the right lane is flush with fenders and
families, forming a cohesive chain whose links approach “The Exit”
signaling for the deceleration lane. The college caravan, flowing
onto the exit ramp and through the green light, turns and winds
along Main Street. As the minivans, hatchbacks, clamshell-covered
cars, and SUV’s pour onto college campus USA, they’re carrying
suitcases, Rubbermaid vats, chests of plastic drawers,
and, of course, the proud, nervous parents …
escorting the Freshman Class of 2018!
E. V. Wyler
sunday morning angel
blue wings and purple hair
fingers tattooed at the tip of her shoulder
if the sun vacates your skies it's over
children sing songs of burgundy rovers
I am your rent my lover
camel crushes
rated your sweet plushes
crowded voices
but no one hushes
the chaos is lovely
but it's the misery that touches
my sunday morning angel
arched smiles
a mother apart from her child
it's been a while since you last foul
you're just a number on speed dial
outside the cafe
a voice some what raspy
a favor indeed
if you choose to ask me
deflower before me
and life just may not last me
city towers
you and me minus the hours
in the neon lights
walk the stars that fail to touch the sky's
apartment 1210
where art thou twelve sinners
the cellos that failed everyday men
the displacements
only seen through a heavens lens
the saint of Orleans
bard windows
crucify your friends
i'll lend you a noose to tie your ends
and when it all ends
think of my sunday morning angel
she never warned you of danger
but she adored the insanity within your anger
my sunday morning angel
is like loving a widower
you never know
what's on the other side of the window
buildings that touch the sky
ceilings that never die
capsize the truth
baptize whatever you knew
there was a time it was just me and you
"songs in a book reflect vacancy"
On way to work you find a dog asleep,
And see the same scene on a return trip.
If that makes you wonder
Who lives life much sounder,
You live a dog’s life, no need to think deep.
If your dog has your bed taken over
And you’ve no option but to sleep on floor,
I suggest what to do,
If you have not a clue.
Turn three times before you sleep down, and snore!
____________________________________________
Limerick |03.08.2023| life, dog, humour
Poet’s note: The first limerick indicates that many a man live a dog’s life. The second, if your dog has usurped your bed, and now that you live a dog’s life, do as dogs do: Turn three times before you sleep on the floor. Additionally, snore and see if your dog is disturbed and vacates your bed. Good luck.
There he blows
on his way to the gents
Book in hand
we all know
this is where
he shall be occupied
for the next half hour
Imagination envisages
him making himself
comfortable
There for a duration
Intent on sinking
his teeth into several chapters
of the latest James Patterson
Belt slowly snakes
to the floor as he sits there
concentrating
on task in progress
with trousers half mast
supported by knees
Book on lap
A certain familiar
thunder echoes
through the house
Stench slowly seeping
through under door
Leaves mum running
for the air fragrancers
Doors and windows
are opened as mother
tries to ‘air’ the house
as she goes about
her business cleaning
the house until it shines
bright as a freshly minted coin
Eventually father emerges
Fresh and relaxed
Missing one gas mask
Mum trepidly takes a breath
and dives into the bathroom
Intent on finishing her work
disguising Dad’s omissions
Bathroom engaged again
Mother’s work never done
and yet as she vacates
a beautiful flowery scent
followers her through
The empty room vacantly awaiting
Welcoming next guest.
Dance
If I got one little itch
I can't sleep
The ghosts
Centuries beneath my feet
No power of the day
Back in shadows
Thick white halos
Whats to come back to once we're gone
A moment in chance
Hats off
That chance to change
The miracle we breathe
Brave
Stagnant
silenced
A minds ambition
Lust shoved into sanctuary
of those who have stopped living
Of disillusion
Of disbelief
Hooked on a sway
A sway as soft as the snow
The toll to creation
A cancer's delight Hate
Glory of the dream love
Merely to dance and sing
Merrily
The music shows it's passion
dedication
To die on the last note
The mind to die
Vacates a place Ready for a new beginning a different band
A new song
A new life
By the green lake snow drifts on
Sun vacates the vacuous calm so cold
Swirls of powder white, footfalls come in a trance
On children's heels, slips into tomorrow
Covered by hours numb and numbered count
Crisp particles frost down to dusk
Leaving us to discern what matters
Shivering lips, thin ice and rosy cheeks
Twilight bends dark shore escapades
It is not quite tomorrow yet
Green turns to blue under the slice of moon
White snow has mesmerizing powers
Winter waits, wastes no time
Billows of cold air coming from the young
Breathing heavy in clouds of pure pleasure
A chance to run forever on the ice
There's a man who I call DeSatan
From Florida to Sunshine State
who said that slavery for Black folks in America
was beneficial and great.
they were taught skills on how to be
better productive slaves
and those beatings, rapes and lynchings
was simply how white folks behave
no need for us to get bent out of shape
we just need to realize
to that to have been a slave in America
was considered an enormous prize
and to add insult to injury.
we have a few token Blacks
who co-signed that bull
as some historical fact
DeSatan in my opinion,
is simply a Nazi fascist prick
who tends to overcompensate
as he probably has a little dick
an angry and bitter man
who on divisiveness firmly stands
to go pick a fight with the Disney corporation,
your state's largest employer is beyond dumb
and if the company vacates your state,
where will all that lost revenue now come from?
slavery was an abomination
America's most heinous sin
and if we don't stay diligent,
they may try to revive it all over again
white nationalist, domestic terrorists
and the MAGA Supreme
will try to tell you that slavery
wasn't what it seemed
generational chattel
never an opportunity to be free
born into captivity, no chance of liberty
degraded, debased and worked
like the lowliest of dogs
hell, they had more respect
for their cattle, horses, pigs and hogs
slaves were caned, whipped and mutilated
for the smallest offense
Yet the slave owners never showed any empathy,
no consideration and no penitence
slaves were viewed as 3/5 of a human being
who only deserve endless and senseless beatings
I can't imagine nor see any benefit in all of that
and for anyone to say otherwise. It's just bull crap
slavery wasn't slavery.
It was involuntary relocation
a training program to teach African Americans.
a viable vocation
slavery wasn't slavery
it was an inconvenience ideology
a social experiment that white folk in America
don't believe warrants an apology
it was what it was and Black folks need to let it go
as slavery wasn't slavery because white folks say so