Long Velcro Poems
Long Velcro Poems. Below are the most popular long Velcro by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Velcro poems by poem length and keyword.
A flood of unfamiliar faces,
Shoes with Velcro, not with laces,
Missing memories, times and places,
Hosting in the hospital here,
Staring at strangers? someone dear?
Is it not what it may seem?
Is it real, or do I dally with a dream?
Through haze, ghostly evocations glow.
Fair face, fresh flowers, dancing slow -
Just my imagination? I don't know.
I must've fallen in a trance -
Can't be me - I don't dance.
This beauty in my conscious stream,
Is she (was she?) real, or just a dream?
Whispering, walking in the wood,
Wishing, wondering, if she would -
Understanding, Understood.
Did, together, we once stand?
Did I ever hold her hand?
A wonderful wife, a titan team -
Is she real or do I dally with a dream?
As luck would have it
I chanced upon the secret
of finding things not looked for,
to enlist serendipity on cue.
The more you look the less you see.
Stop looking for, and start looking about.
Expectation kills spontaneity.
So, stop planning itineraries.
If you take a planned tour
on a planned route to see
the things you quest for,
You'll only get what you ordered on the menu.
But if you look about
and see an opportunity
in an open door off the beaten track,
you are ready to allow chance
happenings to surprise you.
Many great discoveries
in Science were made this way:
Penicillin discovered in dirty dishes, after a vacation
The micro-wave oven, when chocolate bar in pocket melted
Post-it note, a not so sticky glue
Velcro, when hiking and seeing how burrs hook onto hair
Radioactivity, when Uranium left on photo plate in drawer overnight.
Two things stand out here:
Firstly, doing something unusual, unplanned, as if by accident
Secondly, being aware that the unexpected has happened,
and taking time to investigate it.
An inquisitive mind feeds on serendipitous encounters.
The opposite of serendipity is *zemblanity:
Which is discovering unlucky expected outcomes you planned for,
when you make unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries by design.
It is the inevitable unsurprising uncovering
of what we expected, and would rather not know.
So now you know, it is better
to look about, than to look for,
to allow serendipitous encounters
to happen more by chance.
---------------
9 May 2017
If you’re a certain age, I’ll bet
That stuck inside your brain
The numbers of your telephone
From youth must still remain.
For way back when you memorized
That sequence, it did stick,
Like Velcro, to your brain cells;
You can summon it real quick.
There once was lots of room in there
For things we learned by heart –
Addresses, passwords, ID codes
And credit cards, to start.
But over time, the Velcro wears
And things will not adhere
Yet strangely, numbers from the past
Still stand out, loud and clear.
For all who may have dialed
UL 6 – 2955,
That number’s out of service
But in me it did survive.
My canvas calls for blue today.
A light delicate pretty blue, not the ugly mean ones.
I mix the one I want, a sky blue on an October day.
When it dries I stare at where grass might be.
Usually reaching for green, I feel my hands reaching for gold.
Chunky, happy, dazzling, layer upon layer of glitzy and gritty gold.
It is the beach, I tell myself! The beach gives me a happy grin.
I stare into the woods for a bit, figuring out my next move.
We need squiggles, the sky suggests. Silver squiggles,
Three-dimensional, sparkly dazzling happy silver squiggles!
Silver and gold, silver and gold. I find myself singing.
It is shining up nicely, like a tiara, aluminum foil, rhinestones.
Joy resonates from the canvas now. I have never been more pleased.
This one is a keeper I announce.
My man rolls his eyes as I add it to my stack of a hundred canvases.
What else can I do? We cannot get any more paintings on the walls.
And Velcro is not keeping them on the ceiling.
Besides, this one is my new favorite!
She was the prettiest doll in the whole world,
Elegant, stunning, waist-less, buxom,
Curves all over the place,
No straight lines.
Shocking for a child’s toy
Shocking for 1959.
Mattel was by far
Ahead of their time.
Marilyn Monroe and
Jane Mansfield were
Our pin-up girls.
This was way before
We demanded to be
Called women so we
Could feel equal to men.
We were still “girls” then,
But not for much longer
We lived in a fantasy world,
Our Barbies and we.
Barbie was blonde, brunette,
Redhead. Her hair was bobbed,
Ponytailed, straightened, and beaded.
She was the only doll we wanted,
And we all wanted her.
Barbie did not stand alone.
We had to have a trunk to
Put all of her clothes in.
Her tiny high heels were
Darling, plastic, a variety
Of colors.
Grandmas and Mamas all over
The world were sewing Barbie
Clothes as fast as they could.
The tiny waist was a problem
Velcro could have fixed,
But Velcro had not been
Invented yet.
I have twenty thousand
Pinterest pins that prove
That today, fifty-nine years
Later, Barbie is no doubt
the most popular doll
and always in
Style.
We have mermaid Barbies,
Cowgirl Barbies, Madame
President Barbies, Magician
Barbies, and Barbies from every
Nation, country and continent.
Yes, Mattel, you did well.
Very well indeed.
I am terrified of pink clocks
magnified with blue striped locks
they are crude and meanly loud
some are also big and proud
stay away, you bad pink clocks
my cousin is one, he simply mocks
nightmare dream of pink clocks
truth be told, mine seldom rocks
one on my wall is pushy and mean
worse, she has the wildest scream
if you are into pink clocks
I must tell you some eat socks.
And cause your id to go insane,
Throw nightmares into your brain
I am not a fan in the least of pink clocks
One was in my room with my childhood frocks.
if you think you know about pink clocks
You have not met one, with its ticks and tocks.
bossy and thick, and a mind of their own.
pink clocks are bad as children, but worse when grown.
So, honey, eat your veggies and Velcro your shoes,
Avoid pink clocks, or you will be the one to lose.
"Humor can alter any situation and help us cope at the very instant we are laughing." –Allen Klein
A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR BLUNTS THE SHARP BLADES OF REALITY
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I lay on the table, a modern-day sacrificial lamb,
pillow cradling my head, a fortress of foam and fabric.
Then came Velcro, the sticky embrace of a high-tech straitjacket,
my legs and wrists secured like a reluctant burrito.
Into the tube I slid, a terrified astronaut on a mission,
the ceiling loomed, a metallic sky, almost kissing my nose.
I clenched my hands until they turned white pondering
“Is this what it feels like to be a sardine in a can?
The sounds began, a symphony of whirs and clicks,
the MRI’s own version of a pop concert—
I imagined it had a fan club, “Team Tube,” with its own T-shirts
while I lay there, a star in a very narrow universe.
I tried counting, “one, two, three.” But sigh…
my thoughts were spinning like socks in a dryer.
I imagined bystanders strolling by, pointing and staring.
“Behold! Look at the sweating patient in the tube!”
The minutes crawled, like a snail on a treadmill.
“Perhaps I should have brought snacks
or at least a good book.” But alas, I was tethered,
a captive audience to my own claustrophobic anxiety.
So I lay still, the sounds swirling,
I chuckled softly, because if this is life,
then I might as well enjoy the ride,
even if it’s a little cramped and a little weird.
After all, who needs a spa day when you can have an MRI,
a slow, relaxing rollercoaster ride into the belly of the beast.
Oh, the absurdity of my situation, and the irony of it all—
Here I was, a human pretzel, searching for sanity inside the MRI.
Then, suddenly, the whirring ceased, the ceiling pulled back.
I emerged, a superhero in a hospital gown,
Velcro stripped away, ready to conquer the world
with a newfound appreciation for open spaces.
Poem written for “A Good Sense Of Humor Blunts The Sharp Blades Of Reality Poetry Contest,” Natasha L. Scragg, sponsor, July 29, 2025.
They say Adam and Eve pranced around wearing nothing
But fig leafs and the biggest grins the world has ever seen
Imagine NO FREAKING RULES!!!
All they had to worry about were those thorny bushes
And the occasional lightning bolt accompanied by a loud booming voice
Reminding Adam, “You owe me big time for this one, my friend!”
Caine and Abel along with seven other offsprings
Were the result of a lot of hanky panky
Do you blame him??? He was the luckiest dude EVER!!!
My question is, how did they keep those fig leafs in place
Scotch Tape? Elmer's Glue? Velcro?
Also why did they need those damn things to begin with
There wasn't another living soul to be seen
Imagine today, if we walked around naked as a jaybird
The population of the world would soar from 7 billion
To well over 20 billion in a matter of nine months counting twins
I'm not saying we couldn't carry on as usual with our daily routine
But perhaps the routine would be interrupted now and then
I have a suggestion for future generations if this becomes a problem
Think of Drew Carey naked!
© Jack Ellison 2014
I've got a story, that needs to be told,
about my mean ole granny, she's pushing "83" years old.
She came at me trippin, it was a Tuesday night,
griping up a storm bout her broken, bedroom nightlite.
She claims I attempted to cause her to trip,
with ending up on floor, and a right broken hip.
She waddled down the hall, walker leading the way,
her hair was a wreck, misplaced comb I would say.
I calmly explained light stays constantly lit,
seven days and nights, my excuse, sounding legit.
Before I could say that the little bulb just blew,
she slowly bent down, and grabbed a brown velcro shoe.
Not quite for certain of her plan of attack,
shouldn't be worried, her eyesight, rather unfit.
I went to the kitchen, quickly opened the junk drawer,
located a pack of bulbs, I had purchased a week before.
Staying out of her way, her comments, and aim,
back to her room, the nightlite I had supposedly maimed.
I quickly replaced the old bulb with new,
the light flickered once, twice, then its radiance grew.
I went back to sit, where I was before,
with granny still ranting, barely pacing the floor.
I told her, her light seems to be fine,
that she could go back to bed at any time.
Slowly she dropped the brown velcro laced shoe,
continuing to cuss at me, like a mad trucker would do.
With a final curse word, and a slam of her door,
I sat silently, grinning, and thinking, "grannies' rage", I simply adore.
I called her my baby doll, because I knew she would like it.
She smiled at me, but did not say a word.
Giving me no nickname, which made me sad.
You are my darling, I told her. I love everything about you.
Even my tattered and torn nightie? She asked me.
Hinting that she wanted another one.
Her head was so big, the dress had to be custom made.
My mother was sewing it with Velcro snaps
Because how else could we get it over her enormous head?
I kept this a secret, because her birthday was a week away.
We went to the river and she said “Drown me please”.
I thought this was weird, but I did what she wanted.
She came up all full of water but she did not die.
Baby dolls do not die, I told her. They have birthday parties.
We were together almost forever until a dog ate her head.