Long Warehouse Poems

Long Warehouse Poems. Below are the most popular long Warehouse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Warehouse poems by poem length and keyword.


Rollover Baby

Atatine .00999 parts per million
Enough to power four continents
With my Matron Disstule Generator
One ounce can power enough energy
For one large city  They laughed at my
Science and ridiculed my beliefs I offered
them money, they said it was evil.
I trick them by giving them pallidium
Knowing they would have to use me to
refine it. Fair, fair, I was fair I asked for
there lands to began mining. I made them
Wealthy people  When some refused the deal
I smiled and walked away  And one night
I heard the gossip of cackling hens, speaking
Of me as foolish and how they wished to exploit
Me. I created the Scarecrow in response. My
Need to exist before all others. My wife lefted
divorced me and married my enemy. One July
Fourth she came to visit me crying.Asking me
to again trust her. She had fallen on hard times 
I took her in, for months it was like when we
Married. One night I was in the warehouse and
I heard giggles, I tiptoed to we're the noise was
and there she was standing . I asked her what
she was doing there she dropped her robe to
Inside me. I went to her and suddenly a large
Man grabbed me. I woke up tied to a chair in my
House  She and her husband making love before
Me. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my
Neutron fazor. And then suddenly to my surprise
Through the wall he came to rescue me, My Scarecrow,
My Scarecrow had come to life!
Form: Bio


Fuctosee Entry Number Hy- Tium

Atatine .00999 parts per million
Enough to power four continents
With my Matron Disstule Generator
One ounce can power enough energy
For one large city  They laughed at my
Science and ridiculed my beliefs I offered
them money, they said it was evil.
I trick them by giving them pallidium
Knowing they would have to use me to
refine it. Fair, fair, I was fair I asked for
there lands to began mining. I made them
Wealthy people  When some refused the deal
I smiled and walked away  And one night
I heard the gossip of cackling hens, speaking
Of me as foolish and how they wished to exploit
Me. I created the Scarecrow in response. My
Need to exist before all others. My wife lefted
divorced me and married my enemy. One July
Fourth she came to visit me crying.Asking me
to again trust her. She had fallen on hard times 
I took her in, for months it was like when we
Married. One night I was in the warehouse and
I heard giggles, I tiptoed to we're the noise was
and there she was standing . I asked her what
she was doing there she dropped her robe to
Inside me. I went to her and suddenly a large
Man grabbed me. I woke up tied to a chair in my
House  She and her husband making love before
Me. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my
Neutron fazor. And then suddenly to my surprise
Through the wall he came to rescue me, My Scarecrow,
My Scarecrow had come to life!
Form: Bio

Premium Member My Red Bike and Me

I learned on a relic...quite bent out of shape, 
          rusty and dented..... and not even quaint!..,
An rattle-trap, hand-me-down, that had seen better days
A ten year old's wishes, had faded away....

But, then on my birthday, as I opened my eyes...
There sat a beauty, my birthday surprise
My very first bike.....shiny and red!!
My dreams had come true.....as I jumped out of bed!!!

I tore off the ribbon, to take a good look
No time now, for breakfast, no time now, to groom
I jumped into my clothes, and then burst from the room
Onto the sidewalk, and into the street
Shouting to everyone..  "Will you come, look at me??!!!"


    With legs long and tan, I began peddling fast
      The sun hid it's shine, the cold wind was brash
        Breeze blew through my hair and into my face
          With time on my side, I was winning a race!
            We were sailing along, I could hear the wheels spin
              Over the hills, where often I'd been!

Clutching the handles, pumping my knees
  I flew past the graveyard, as I peddled with ease
   Far down the lane that circles the fields
     With rows of tall corn stalks, all waiting to yield
       Passing the warehouse that sold Daddy's seed
         I flew past the postman, and the church near the square!
          A turn 'round the corner, the train depot there!
            Splashing through puddles along the bumpy old track
              My legs kept on peddling......with no looking back!!

Didn't notice the dark clouds or storm in the sky
 The air was so sweet as I held my arms high
   Was I dreaming?  I didn't care...as I glided in time
     All the happiness I felt, all the joy of that I ride!
       I remember that birthday....that's been hidden inside..
         Look at me!!  Look at me!! On my red bike, it's me!!
           Don't you see??!!! Don't you see!!! ... That young girl was me!!
             Like a clock that's unwinding..!! That is me that you see!!
               I remember....I remember....How happy and free
                As those wheels spin beneath me
                 Look at me !!!!!!!!!  Do you see??
                   Free as a bird....it is me, it is me!!!
                          Wheeeeeeeee!!!!
Form: Rhyme

The Census of Leaves

Autumn hung red flags
On slender branches above an empty yard.
The city awoke and looked through its papers:
Everything had already been written down yesterday.

Leaves fall into transparent ballot boxes.
The wind counts them, falters, swirls —
Everyone has long been given their own square,
Someone had already counted the results before them.

Copper has fallen silent in autumn pockets,
The ringing dissolves into an invisible network.
Numbers slide across cold screens,
Remembering us more carefully than we remember ourselves.

In the workshop, the clocks continue working.
The master arrives, as usual, at seven.
Money turns into late autumn leaves —
By morning, there is less of it in an open palm.

At night, summer is born above the warehouse
For a few long, fiery minutes.
By morning, the brick walls have turned black,
And cars move along the road.

Cars lie cooling by the roadside,
Dark windows staring at the highway.
Someone boards up a shopfront,
Taking down the sign from the door for the last time.

Someone walks away along the wet road.
The forest accepts them and hides their tracks.
All night the wind takes the road apart,
By morning forgetting who had passed this way.

No one tears the song from the stage —
The lights have simply been turned down.
The hall remains, and the audience is the same.
Only the singer, somehow, is no longer there.

A word flies like the last leaves.
The wind carries it beyond the fence.
Afterwards, there will be walls and numbers.
Afterwards — four walls. A corridor.

In the east, iron darkens.
The sky is etched with a web of trails.
By evening, someone's name from yesterday
Will become a line among several words.

If they order a person to break away,
Like a leaf on frozen ground,
Will the roots be strong enough to hold?
Will there be enough of a voice in this winter?

While there is still a path beneath our feet,
While a voice can still be heard through the fog,
Someone carries it, shielding it with their hands —
A coal that has not yet gone cold in the ashes.

Autumn will pass. This winter will be long.
Snow will cover names and tracks.
Only beneath the snow, beneath the old rowan tree,
The roots will wait for the movement of water.

Author: Dmitry Lyubishkin

Premium Member The Game

Everyone has a soul to save
Somewhere in time from cradle to grave
Everyone dies as each one must
Flesh to bone to ashes to dust

Time brings age as do we all
Every rise is followed by a fall
Our final journey to the barrows down
We’re laid to rest six feet under ground
We travel by night to Sandman’s sound
In dreams with ghosts of ancestors all around
We all hit the wall

We go to high school and off to college
We become a warehouse of useless knowledge
We live to work and work to live
They always take and never give

For they that start by burning books
Will end by burning men
It will be as bad as it looks
And will happen over and over again

The dead from the battlefield
Will rise up once more
Take up their swords and shields
And they will arrive at your front door
Demanding of you what happened to them
In wars, massacres, chaos and mayhem

There is no such thing as the promised land
And there is no such thing as fate’s guiding hand
And there is no such thing as destiny too
Also, there is no such thing as dreams coming true


We all must bear the shame
And we all must bear the blame
We all have one foot in the grave
Only God can save
The innocent from the guilty
The ones half dead or will be
It’s not a game
But all the same
We all play anyway…
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Mouse And The Moon

When an owl with a scowl had his eyes on the prowl
In search of a savoury bite
A little brown mouse poked his nose from his house
Unafraid as a full moon shone bright

And the owl rocked his head till his night vision said,
“My supper just came into sight.”
But cicadas don’t sing when owls take to the wing
So, in silence, the mouse stood to fight.

A screech in the night as the owl got a fright
And an end was put to his endeavours
A most gruesome sight as the ground left and right 
Was carpeted with blooded feathers

The mouse ate his fill of his ill fated kill
Then dragged the remains to a warehouse 
The cats and the rats will be glad of the meal
Supplied courtesy of the Weremouse
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Wild Inside To a Boiling Outside

Our naughty crafts in sex workshop
are all placed under a constant rewind.
Your accurate curves and warm planes
covered in moisture like a soul’s Vaseline
is an awesome park for the leisure of my lust.
Hormones from both ends,
acting like the descendants of the same goddess
grind the coal to heat up sweet but deadly flames.

Anytime absent, you drastically take away
the wagons of my manhood.
Each day when far away,
your heart leaves a text message
for my eager mind to print and bind.
Each time I open my mouth,
I feel the sweetness of your flavoured saliva,
and my thighs when lying together
measure the degrees of your flesh’s heat.

Each morning, our torsos are on a one on one meeting
within locked hips for a proper discussion,
soft, slow, tender, wet, round, warm-all sensual adjectives
to scenes of tropical temperatures so mild and kind.
Our sweats mix to start chemistry’s experiment
in twos, desires battle fiercely
like opposite royal landlords of the battle field;
dancing tongues, greasing bellies, clamping hands;
breath sharing, fidgeting limbs and flexible pelvises
all combine to make summer and spring wonderful sisters.

Just a little serenity I’ve been searching
but a large green field of little palms I find.
Every damsel has her glow,
but you ripen so sharp to beat the coat of many colours
so that my appetite stay blind
to the city’s rainbows and the town’s street lights.
Everlasting is such a nature’s blessing
b’cos the warehouse of our passion is never in a full stock.

Fuctosee Entry Number Hy- Tium

Atatine .00999 parts per million
Enough to power four continents
With my Matron Disstule Generator
One ounce can power enough energy
For one large city  They laughed at my
Science and ridiculed my beliefs I offered
them money, they said it was evil.
I trick them by giving them pallidium
Knowing they would have to use me to
refine it. Fair, fair, I was fair I asked for
there lands to began mining. I made them
Wealthy people  When some refused the deal
I smiled and walked away  And one night
I heard the gossip of cackling hens, speaking
Of me as foolish and how they wished to exploit
Me. I created the Scarecrow in response. My
Need to exist before all others. My wife lefted
divorced me and married my enemy. One July
Fourth she came to visit me crying.Asking me
to again trust her. She had fallen on hard times 
I took her in, for months it was like when we
Married. One night I was in the warehouse and
I heard giggles, I tiptoed to we're the noise was
and there she was standing . I asked her what
she was doing there she dropped her robe to
Inside me. I went to her and suddenly a large
Man grabbed me. I woke up tied to a chair in my
House  She and her husband making love before
Me. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my
Neutron fazor. And then suddenly to my surprise
Through the wall he came to rescue me, My Scarecrow,
My Scarecrow had come to life!
Form: Bio

Premium Member Canada But Not As We Know It

I’ve never given much thought, about the last train to Auschwitz 
for indeed every train, was intended to be ones last,

Except for the guards, who sit atop the cattle cars
As the human livestock, slowly asphyxiates behind bars
not giving them a thought, or a care in the world 
except maybe, what great jobs we have 
Sit up here smoking, and joking, oblivious to the choking 

Just shoot anything that try’s get off, 
An absolute no brainer, 
For only those without brains, 
have no feelings or remorse 
This one and only requirement, fully endorsed 

Besides it keeps them away, from the Russian front 
they’ve heard all the stories, about that hell hole
where they run over prisoners with tanks, 
No thanks 
Switch off out here, in the country air,
as the wind rushes through, aryan sun bleached hair 

And the moans and groans continue, all very routine 
Stench rises and falls, in wafts and palls
Quick Fritz look, Fräuleins in the fields wave and call
Raising up rifles, greetings from SS railway division to all
Cream of the crop, only room for special ones on top 

Full stop!
Whistles shrill, 

RAUS! RAUS! SCHNELL! SCHNELL! 
Screams aloud, above the putrid smell
as the chimneys belch ash, over an indifferent hell 
Bewildered cargo pours out 
Protestations, my baby, my mummy, my daddy, is dead 
The reply, a heavy truncheon blow, across the head
Get into line, you dirty swine

Selection process begins 
Whilst guards have a chat and a grin
on the horizon a thunderous din
Russians are closing in. 
 
Indeed this was the last train to Auschwitz
and now it’s pulling out 
as the guards banter and shout 
Hey Fritz! where you going to spend, your bag of gold teeth 
Fritz says Bolivia, how about you?
Franz laughs back, somewhere further, that doesn’t stink like your feet 

Meanwhile the zombies bedraggled clothes 
are already in transit to (CANADA)
Not far from the crematoria 
Not that far away at all 


Last Train to Auschwitz Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann 
15/4/2021

 (CANADA) = warehouse and sorting area in Auschwitz. 
  German RAUS = out,  SCHNELL = quick or fast

Fuctosee Entry Number Hy- Tium

Atatine .00999 parts per million
Enough to power four continents
With my Matron Disstule Generator
One ounce can power enough energy
For one large city  They laughed at my
Science and ridiculed my beliefs I offered
them money, they said it was evil.
I trick them by giving them pallidium
Knowing they would have to use me to
refine it. Fair, fair, I was fair I asked for
there lands to began mining. I made them
Wealthy people  When some refused the deal
I smiled and walked away  And one night
I heard the gossip of cackling hens, speaking
Of me as foolish and how they wished to exploit
Me. I created the Scarecrow in response. My
Need to exist before all others. My wife lefted
divorced me and married my enemy. One July
Fourth she came to visit me crying.Asking me
to again trust her. She had fallen on hard times 
I took her in, for months it was like when we
Married. One night I was in the warehouse and
I heard giggles, I tiptoed to we're the noise was
and there she was standing . I asked her what
she was doing there she dropped her robe to
Inside me. I went to her and suddenly a large
Man grabbed me. I woke up tied to a chair in my
House  She and her husband making love before
Me. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my
Neutron fazor. And then suddenly to my surprise
Through the wall he came to rescue me, My Scarecrow,
My Scarecrow had come to life!
Form: Bio

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