Long Waived Poems
Long Waived Poems. Below are the most popular long Waived by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waived poems by poem length and keyword.
The recent lockdown certainly made family the center of everything - from fun to daily irritations. But after a month of being at college - which I know, objectively, isn’t long - those memories seem like echoes from another life.
I love the sudden privacy college has provided - like I’ve personally rediscovered something seemingly new.
I get calls from high school friends who were close as skin a few short weeks ago and there seems to be a disconnect which certainly isn’t because they’ve been “replaced” with new friends.
I’ve always been slow to mesh with new people so I’m trying hard to look engaged in social situations. “Get OUT there and meet people!”, everyone tells us. So I’m working on it - practicing my best fake, friendly smile in mirrors for when deep down inside I want to run.
At least I’ve hit it off with one of my suite-mates, Leong (thank god). She‘s from Macao, China (the “Las Vegas” of Asia) which is about 41 miles from where my family used to live in Shenzhen. When I started talking to her in Cantonese she shrieked with joy - now we can evaluate everyone and everything with delightful discretion.
My classmates are SO smart that classes move really, *REALLY* **FAST**.
“Everyone got that?” the professor says, *no frantic hands waived*
“Moving ON!”
If I daydream for 30 seconds - I come back and - “WAIT, huh? - what are we talking about?” It’s not like high school at ALL - it’s actually scary.
So I’m moving on.
The child smiled and asked me how many years of my life had gone by.
She stared into my eyes and saw my crooked smile.
I found it beautiful to be asked such a question by such sincere yet innocent eyes.
I’d lived over a half a century was my reply and she was shocked as she heard my time alive.
She looked confused and asked me how my life had changed since like her I was child. She asked why I lay in the bed and why I looked so weak in her eyes.
I didn’t want to see those caring innocent eyes cry but I had to be honest with my reply.
I said it’s like a city or a town that changes shape over time. Where once there was a new building that caught the sun and shined for a while. As that building it grew older cracks may appear over time. Sometimes the building it becomes faulty and to life it has to say goodbye.
She said I can see you and you are here so I don’t have to say goodbye. She touched my face and said that she would never, ever forget my smile. She smiled and said that she’d buy the building and tell the sun to make it always shine. I asked how she’d get the money and she said she’d sell all her toys and build a bank with money trees as tall as the sky. This warmed my heart and brought tears to my eyes.
She said I didn’t have to worry about money ever more in my life. She turned and walked away with her mother and has she approached the door she looked and waived and blew me a kiss and silently said the word goodbye.
For some strange reason I felt no fear and now was prepared to die.
The little fir tree was feeling extremely sad
it was tiny compared to its mum and its dad
When people saw the tree they just walked away
and chose a much larger tree for their Xmas display
The wind helped the fir tree waggle its branches
and the tree tried so hard to get admiring glances
Sadly people said ‘that tree’s much too small,
it wouldn’t look right in our lounge or the hall’
All of a sudden the little tree became aware
of a disabled young lad in a motorised chair
Peter beamed when he saw the little fir tree
and said ‘mum this tree is perfect for me’
His mother said ‘Peter are you really sure
there’s lots to see, we could look at more’
Peter said to his mum ‘this little tree is ideal
and when its decorated, your heart it will steal’
Peter said ‘mum, it will be so easy for me
I’ll be able to decorate this little fir tree
We’ll buy baubles from the Christmas shop
and I can reach to put the gold angel on top’
The store man overheard the boy’s conversation
and was so impressed by Peter’s determination
He waived the purchase price of the little tree
Peter left the store smiling, he was very happy
Peter decorated the little tree all on his own
and it took pride of place in their cosy home
His mother’s so proud of her determined boy
and the little fir tree gave them so much joy.
Submitted to "X" Contest, New or Old
Sponsored by Constance La France
12/3/18
Sitting in a coffee shop one Saturday morning,
After Friday night,
Thats, where I belong.
A red headed zebra went strolling by.
I took a second glance,
Realized what caught my eye.
Mr. Zebra had black and white stripes,
Everywhere but in his hair!
"Hold on before you go out the door,
I don't believe I've ever seen you before!"
"Perhaps you don't remember me," said Mr. Zebra,
As you were consuming your libation,
I was ingesting jellybeans.
We matched bean for drink,
Much longer than you think!"
"My beans were bright red,
And went to my head!
Yours were clear drinks,
Which is why you stink!
We both ended up on the floor."
I quietly put my head on the table,
Waived for the server too bring one more.
More coffee is needed,
Before I slump back to the floor.
Don't want to see red headed zebras anymore!
Many are the memories of Hoosier farm life as a lad that I recall.
One was what Dad called 'hog renderin' that occurred every fall.
When he proclaimed the old boar had reached his maximum weight,
That meant for sure that the old feller was soon to meet his fate!.
After Dad did him in, puttin' an end to his squeals,
He was hoisted by block and tackle and strung up by his heels.
Dad wielded his butchers' knife with the deftness of a surgeon's hand,
Carvin' out loins, hams and bacon from our late-departed friend!
Curin' bacon was Dad's specialty in which he took great pride.
He performed secret incantations which he never would confide.
Massagin', injectin' stuff and smokin' them again and again,
To ensure they were suitable for Mom's iron skillet fryin' pan!
After milkin' the cows and sloppin' the hogs at the break of dawn,
I could smell the bacon sizzlin' in the skillet as I walked across the lawn!
Enterin' the house the aroma of the bacon wafted about the place.
Even Dad was so anxious to dine that he waived the prayin' of grace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
By BillMarable
He was a pastor of the third generation
who could sometimes get animated in his presentation
Like last Sunday at the 11 o’clock hour
The spirit took hold and he began to tower
As the choir ended it’s morning song to glory
Pastor begin to recite his holy story
He stood at the mic all clam and composed
As he laid the groundwork with eloquent prose
It was about 10 minutes into his spiritual indoctrination
When holy fire caught hold to his presentation
He let out a yell, a rather boastious shout
Leapt in the air, spung around and let another out
Then Deacon Jones almost on cue
said “go ahead preacher!” And he knew just what to do
“Let the glory of the Lord feel us all”
His voice echoed in the Sacred Hall
Half the congregation sprung to their feet though some elders were less deliberate in leaving the seat
Yet they nodded and waived with their signifying hand
Deacon Jones shouted again”go ahead man”!
Just when you thought their praise was spent
BroAlbert tapped them drums, to Sister Grace’s tambourine accompaniment
Sister Joyce had been stroking the keys in stride with Pastor
But now she had to play a little bit faster
Folks were running and jumping and falling out
The Spirit was in the mist, no doubt
Looking at the clock, Pastor vowed not to keep them long
drenched in sweat, he asked the choir for a song
He stood at the door greeting all who passed
Thinking “the buffet starts at 1, and I don’t want to be last.
"Changing Channels"
We are all
drawn to the light
the silent voices
call us in
like we are
their addiction
components
waived
in the weighting
we swim in
our daily medication
like transparent vespers
We are all
drawn to the light
simultaneously
magnetised
and in our singularity
we consume our
unique polarity
solitary figures
dancing across
the stepping stones
strange keys
connected
inside us
the child calls
towards the
centre that
is evasive, missing
A New Year
freefall
fireworks
only last a short while
codes for lifts
1702, nothing is ever easy
so we walk the stairs
an exercise in patience;
blow-ins
walk back in again
eventually
changing channels
Christmas arrives
when the truth
remembered
and time stolen
in the static of things
re-gifted
you read me
I watch you
from the other side
drawn to the light
changing channels
a frequent returning
yours eternally
some time
in your future
a frequent returning
yours eternally,
The Motherload
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“A view to remember
the centre is missing
they question
how the future lies
in someone’s eyes”
“We’re older than we realise
in someone’s eyes”
“The gentle collapsing
of every surface
We travel on the
quiet road
The Overload”
Written: November 19, 2023
________________________________________
I must plunge into the seafloor.
Out into the abyss of water and starry sky.
I utterly crave a lofty vessel. As waves roll ashore,
And the insight of the stars from high.
The wind symphony and the vortex spin
Yet the pearl sail is shaking within.
A murky haze veils the ocean's surface.
And the onset of a dismal dawn stirs us.
I must plunge into the seafloor.
Owing to the beckoning of an ebbing wave,
An erratic and yet obvious call before.
That might not be waived.
I'd settle for a breezy day.
As cotton clouds glide across the sky.
Sputtering fog and billowing spume
And the squawking of seabirds, I presume.
I must plunge into the seafloor.
Onward to the wandering gypsy life.
Trillions of years elapsed, and it is still pure.
Where the wind acts as a sharpened knife
The only thing I require is an ascetic tale.
Expressed humorously by a gypsy peer.
Restful sleep and lovely dreams prevail.
Finished the drawn-out mystical cheer.
Lifted from the Earth's atmosphere
without having a visible body,
the narrowest gate appeared to me!
Was it the Seventh Heaven?
Two angels ushered me in...
without asking me whom I wanted to see!
With gentle voices and bright smiles of omnipotence:
they opened up Life's Book saying with acknowledged privilege,
" Your name is written on the first page,
come with us and meet your family and friends! "
Surprised by what they had convincingly said,
I followed them along the golden walls where saints happily sang.
I refrained from asking, " Where's God, the Eternal one? "
Anticipating my anxiety, they turn to me to vanish my doubt,
" Good man, you were chosen by Him for your profound faith,
have patience and you will see God on His majestic throne! "
I nodded and continued to follow them as my awe increased by the minute,
" Don't worry, you can't die if you see Him...you are a spirit! "
was their remark as the Almighty God and His resurrected Son
waived me on assuring me with their strong voices, " Your trails are forever gone! "
Don't lay the plucked flowers on my grave
for,I am not at all alive to crave
I don't want my name to be engraved
for,it had long since been waived
Stack the colorful flower pots on all corners
Sow some grass seeds round the borders
Also plant the flowering green creepers
Let them adorn the place as decors
May the flowers smile throughout the years
and let timbre of smiling flowers reach the ears
of the dancing butterflies and let them appear
and gracefully dance with full of cheers
On the center of the grave, fix a big bird feeder,
may it enthrall the blabbers and baya weavers
Also dig a small pond that is about ten meter
and fill in the pond with crystal clear water
Let it be used as the ultimate thirst quencher,
quenching innocents thirst and there's nothing better.
No need of tombstone and epitaph to honor
My grave shouldn't be a place of horror
Listening to the nature's songs at my place
my soul will ever rest in peace