Long Vacuums Poems
Long Vacuums Poems. Below are the most popular long Vacuums by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vacuums poems by poem length and keyword.
THE CLEANER . . .
When I was younger, I just wanted to be a cleaner
After watching all the espionage films, I did gleaner
But, saying this all they did, was hand me a brush
Thinking to myself, you have got it all wrong mush
I swept the floors, thought this isn’t getting me far
When I said cleaner, I meant cleaner & not the char
I grew to regret my remarks, as more brooms I got
Until one day I thought, I’ve just had my flipping lot
Did 007 or Charles Bronson - start at the same level
If so, did they have the pleasure of a auto dust devil
Sucking in all the bad guys into their strong vacuums
While alas I’m still stood here holding all the brooms
So I thought just maybe, there is not a real difference
Just a different way in the art - of the hit deliverance
Sweeping away the cob webs, as if they are bad guys
As each bit of dust hit the dust, one of bad guys dies
Power of thought, is quite amazing, all said and done
But hiding in the bushes, sounds a little bit, more fun
Indiana Shaw . . . : )
In forms of crusts and curves and caves and carves and undulates,
The vacuum looks exceedingly charming and gorgeous;
This vacuum, yet, when becomes a throne of naughty fates,
Heart and mind get twisted and turned into strains enormous...!
When vacuums are crowded with cockroaches and lizards,
The environs become disgusting and nauseating;
Vacuum can turn violent when gnawing, like blizzards,
When, owing sorrows and sufferings, life grows frustrating...!
When silliness and meaninglessness fill the vacuum,
Pessimism, like thorny plants, fills the fields of existence;
Delight, like chased-out parrots, leaves the heart's loveliest room,
Towards pain and bareness does vacuum show resistance...!
Even richly strong life could be, like chaff, easily blown,
Wisdom filled vacuum can become a heavenly throne...!!!
The woman inside who pretends to despise power
Yearns for it, in every way, but secretly
She is unassuming and selfless,
keeping her hopes and dreams silenced
putting other’s wants into the forefront of her mind’s eye.
The queen she could be is squelched at every turn
As she cooks, cleans, dusts, and vacuums her life days away.
The resentment she feels is kicked under the bed,
along with her secret ambitions, talents, and most coveted desires.
She has strangled her inner wants so completely,
she is unaware at a conscious level that they still live.
It is not “nice” for a woman to want things, she thinks.
Not sure where this script originated, but understanding it is her mantra.
The woman inside is disgusted, but cannot fight her way to the front.
It is the place where the “nice” girl lives.
Yes, I did say girl; she will never earn the right to be called woman
if things continue along this path.
Softly, the sages breathed in the wisdom of the Methuselah tree
Said the Hyperion, "O' Look I have grown way high".
Methuselah whispered "Embrace life, hug each day to grow tall and free."
Each day - a random precious jewel bestowed by a higher decree
O' does the cosmos and nature utter a bleak nigh?
Softly, the sages breathed in the wisdom of the Methuselah tree
Dutifully, the cool Willow swayed drooped branches on a fanning spree
Moved - Birch and Beech danced a waltz they could not let pass by
Methuselah whispered "Embrace life, hug each day to grow tall and free."
For each day the sun rises, to witness such rising - no guarantee
Heads bowed, Apple and Acorn breathed out a blended sigh
Softly, the sages breathed in the wisdom of the Methuselah tree
Through trials of daily life, each person has been appointed trustee
For an expiring gift to unwrap - make haste - apply!
Methuselah whispered "Embrace life, hug each day to grow tall and free.”
The Orchards grow in solidarity - they foresee
Vacuums of time stream by, each day lost does not lie
Softly, the sages breathed in the wisdom of the Methuselah tree
Methuselah whispered "Embrace life, hug each day to grow tall and free.”
I've walked at a peculiar
angle
As I've laughed at peculiar
circumstances
I've aged in the most peculiar
of vacuums
And went on to love in the most
normal of ways
I've worked in a spirit
of defiance
As I've traveled the many miles
from compliance
I've lived within the confines
of the moment
And written those things I
could never speak
I've seen the footsteps of
giants
Made by the intrepid feet of the
smallest of men
As the mirrors of my past have risen
in blind reflection
I've come face to face with
the only adversary I will ever fear
I've asked the age old questions
knowing there are no answers
I’ve taught the unschooled a language
they will teach again
I have vowed to seek recovery
for what the iconoclasts have broken
Until truth reclaims from power
—what was heaven sent
(Philadelphia Airport: August 1st, 2015)
Darkest heart a ruddy black
Dried blood and static
Blackest of black eyes roll in empty space
The darkest night in deepest oblivion
Of volcanic hell frozen in place
As millenniums fell, a black so deep
It rivals your darkest heart,
A heart of obsidian black seeps
Fragile as obsidian a clouded frosted glass
No fire of passion or hate can crack
Forged in the earth's deepest depth so long ago
It died with your words sliced sharpest of all
Darkest Obsidian Night carved the wickedest
Blade, hearing the call, in the deepest of space ?
An obsidian blade the darkest of all
A ruddy black heart of hearts
Dead eyes, stoney deity, static
Blackest of black lost it vacant vacuums attics
The darkest night in the deepest hours
Lost in homes where shadows roam
Of volcanic hell frozen
In a place where falling stars showers
As millenniums to come, starlight
across my immortal face
A black so deep it rivals your soul…
Obsidian Obscura engines burn violently race…
LOVE'S SOBRIETY
Nightfall's preponderance and day's ignominy
Jealous of the neon-eyed night
That I don't spend with you
Wondering who you lie next to
Your voice screeched into days
When we could not see,
Jealous of the love...
Love that wasn't here,
Gone for someone else to share
You erect high ice wall around my heart
Towering far above my sight and simplicity
My Achilles heel drowning at your skyscrapers,
Bearing down on me like a berserk Buffalo,
Parted were your clouds that clothed my sky
Upon consciousness thoughts
Invasive was the mind
Myriad vacuums of a forlorn heart
On the lonesome surge into your infinite pool
With every gusto sing I the psalters
We stir to the rhythm of nature
Give me one million nights
To drink the ale of your love
And you'll be my only perpetual guest,
Ox or Ass, none will I plow with
But will pilfer the moon just to make you gay,
Wouldn't lay down my sword to slay
If you are worth all the fight,
A thousand miles race just to stay one night
Because one lost night may last for eternity
To earnestly light up love's sobriety.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2016.
(a poem in Senryus)
They say that you should
never follow whisky with
beer - but my new rhyme
is - never follow
several martinis with
two more martinis
Ladies, please take my
advice, you can’t focus your
eyes in the morning
When your roommates rude
little sister runs the loud
vacuum around noon
Who gets up before
noon in the summer? It’s not
right, if you ask me.
“Mom told me too?” That’s
an excuse reminiscent
of old Nuremberg
I have feels for her
as encumbered as she is
by parental yoke.
.
.
A song for this (please play it low):
Hangovers with You by Big B & Dirty Heads Rock
I knew a cat once named Peaches. He was an all-black cat, but not one of those that could be described like a “shadow”, never be named Bagheera, never moved like a “black bolt” or even be described as “mysterious”. You’d never mistake him for a bad omen. He wouldn’t make a very good Halloween mascot either, the boy ran with wide-eye from vacuum cleaners and drooled in his sleep for God’s sake. Peaches had one eye. I never asked him how he lost it, or if he traded it for some extra lives or something. Frankly, I don’t even know if he remembered having two. He, with astounding two-eyed confidence, would size up the antique, conversation stained dining room table and leap up there, skewed depth perception and all, to fall six inches short of his goal. Never seemed to bother him though, two seconds later (eight seconds in cat years) he’d wiggle his butt and give it another go. Never letting one eye or wood tables or any of life’s other traditional inconveniences stop him. He could have written really great self-help books. Now that I’m thinking about it, Peaches taught me a lot about life. Most importantly, that the two o’clock sun was the best place to close your eye and doze off for an hour (four hours in cat years), drool a bit, and dream of a world without vacuums.
Oh, Nothing! You sly, elusive spud,
You’re the star of this poem (though technically dud).
You haunt empty fridges, blank quizzes, and minds,
The gap where my keys hide and my weekend plans wind.
You’re the punchline of vacuums, the muse of bare shelves,
The reason I’m talking to lamps by myself.
You’re the “E” in my bank account, crisp and austere,
The punch I forgot in my joke over here.
Some say you’re profound—philosophers swoon,
But let’s be real: you’re a nap’s favorite tune.
You’re the silence between a bad pun and “Huh?”,
The plot of a mime’s TED Talk—oh, brother, enough!
You wear pajamas daily, yet still blend right in,
A champion of naps, but you never quite win.
You’re the cloudless blue sky with no bird, plane, or flair,
The “U up?” text sent to a cactus. Bold. Rare.
So here’s to you, Nothing, you cheeky old void,
The world’s quietest meme, forever deployed.
Though poets may weep for your depth, I insist:
You’re the *something* I missed… wait. Dang. Plot twist!
---
P.S. If you liked this poem, pay me in air.
(It’s fitting, since Nothing and I split despair.)