Long Washing Poems
Long Washing Poems. Below are the most popular long Washing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Washing poems by poem length and keyword.
What if God was too Busy for You?
What if you called Him,
And he gave you a laundry list of how important
He was?
And had no time to heal your grief,
Because He had scheduled a marathon
run?
Perhaps your husband had died and
Your heart was rent in two!
But God said, "so sorry I have no time
for you."
So you turned your head into your
Pillow and wept, lonely tears.
Why are we obsessed with busy-ness?
And things and events overcome our
love for others?
Instead, we are busy washing sofa seat
covers?
Or~ that's the excuse we tell others.
What about pathetic emails we get?
Meaning...emails so lacking in depth?
Can people only mention their food
Or terrible weather?
As for the body of any email ~
The person you are emailing has a name!
Well, you next try texting.. And that gets
worse.
Retired people cannot answer texts??
Darn it! Call the hearse!!
SoupMail for poets,quite different.
God bless all the poets here.
Thank you for you understanding I am
alive....
Not dead, and never giving me jive.
You all answer emails, quite a blessing.
I cannot hug each one of you enough!
Good Night, God bless each of you!
With Love and Affection,
Panagiota Romios
In heat
the pulse of your streets.
I've heard the crack
of hard political whips
that pinch the air.
Cores of human topography,
your aging neighborhoods.
Your people kick cans
counting gravel like jewels,
while chiselers roast dogs
in the courthouse.
Swine flu kills
the papers.
And already the sky is
feverish.
In your train tunnels
a violinist plays pianissimo.
I've seen
railroad men search for him
along your tracks.*
But you are always
the sweltering sore
of the Atlantic.
A rusty mouth
for dark ships.
A blind brick town
of boarded storefronts
and ***** flicks,
you are buried.
Brown bag your way
to the last alley.
The tenants throw
rocks at your windows.
The rain has stopped
washing your sewers.
*From an old legend of
railroad workers on the east coast of the United States.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
As the fall is apon us I feel anew
Seeing all the beauty that is in you
Our story so untold
I cannot wait for it to unfold
You are so unexpected
I keep waiting for the ball to drop or be rejected
I have waited all my life to meet someone who
Could make me feel all the feels that you do
Your sweet and kind in all the best ways
I feel so inadequate in what I write and say
You make me feel unquestionably alive
In just being good and kind to you I strive
How can I possibly match the way you make me feel
When I need to pinch myself just to confirm you're real
Those brown eyes matching all the colors I hold dear
You alone washing away all my life's fears
I will stay sted fast as cold sets in
Keeping you warm till winters end
In dreams, I wander through time's chime,
Acts committed, causing pain in rhythmic crimes.
Suffering echoes in a remorseful dance,
Seeking forgiveness, I yearn for a chance.
Grant me pardon for my soul's misdirection,
Heal the deep dent, end this inner infection.
Forgive the others, let love be my reflection,
A symphony of mercy, a divine connection.
Sins aplenty, more than the seven sins' array,
Guilt shadows dreams, lingering night and day.
God's forgiveness, a beacon in the dark,
Love and affection, an eternal spark.
In dreams and reality, guilt intertwined,
A sacred plea, a repentant mind.
God's mercy, a balm for the contrite,
Forgiveness flows, washing away the night.
Ten Lines In The Sand
Ripples adorn life finding tides in the ocean writing home ten
homely ingredients for swirling with graceful tapestry of the sun
LOVE COMPASSION and KINDNESS washing cleansing eternally
where they meet gravity’s pull and push engineered by the moon
in POETIC MOTION and surfing the crest of BEAUTY IN PEACE
The waves display NON VIOLENCE no hurting of sentient beings
no more MORONIC OTHERING just RESPECT FOR THE DIVERSE
Water the source of our pleasure plays with sand on the shore
dancing HARMONY’S resolution HONESTY in tenfold Universe
squared by earth wind and fire in the consummation of passion
16 September 2016
I was a mere lad of ten living on a prairie farm in Hoosier land,
Roaming the fields in my old straw hat, barefoot, carefree and tanned.
My faithful dog, Spooks, was always with me chasing rabbits,
(And rabbits were very plentiful due to their prolific habits!)
We had no inside facilities such as running water or a bath.
Our privy, as it was called, was located at the end of a winding path!
A Saturday night ritual was taking a sitz bath in a metal washing tub,
Then we'd pile in Dad's '35 Dodge and head for town after my scrub.
There was no TV in those days and my ears were glued to the radio,
Following the adventures of my heroes, filtered through static-filled audio!
I spent my meager allowance buying model planes and crafting the things.
Dozens hung from the ceiling of my room floating on gossamer wings.
I used a supple willow branch for a rod and a safety pin for a hook,
Angling for crawdads and wily crappie in the cool and flowing brook.
The Great Depression was ending way back then when I was ten.
Alas, World War Two began and things were never the same again.
On languid summer afternoons on a limb of the old oak tree I'd stretch,
And watch the scudding clouds as boyhood dreams I'd sketch.
Those were some of the things I did way back then when I was ten.
I'm four score and five now, but how I cherish memories of way back then!
Entry for Kelly Deschler's "Way Back When I Was Ten" Contest
I am outside in the pouring rain!
Oh Lord I feel, for once, SANE!!
My life has been a complete mess
Always thinking I am something less.
As stand alone out here
With no worries or fear
I know with all my heart
That my life is about to start!
The rain is washing me clean
Making me feel like I am a queen
For there is a man who thinks I am
Does what I want, does not give a damn.
A new way of life calls to me
One that makes me really see
That even though I am broken
Lets me be me and outspoken.
I am wet and yet am not cold
For now I get to be very bold
I get to find a peace I was denied
And am going to do this with eyes open wide
Watch out everyone get ready to see!
Crack...lightning bolts.... a brand new me!
Another storm is rolling in again
And with it a Mistress within.
I worry about being unfair to other benign parasites
in my feeding-frenzy faith community,
and to myself,
because I need
and/or want
a residential
intentionally cooperative
resiliently win/win consensus
co-investing
co-managing
eco-responsible and responsive
health-wealth community.
This feels rather much to ask
of someone already satisfied with a weekly sanctuary bath,
washing off some of the weekday BusinessAsUsual compost,
looking for ever renewing possibilities for repurposing trash
into refueling treasure.
I fear afflicting innocent souls
with my competitive capitalistic commodifying infliction
endangering all sacred values
averse to genuflecting before all secularized disvalues;
My own intentional community dreams
of relief from justice as revenge
anticipate double-binding win/win commitment to mercy
as peace restoring justice
for mutually healing purposes,
Sacred sanctuary relations between and among
strong-faithed cooperative parasites on MotherEarth,
actively seeking ego-systemic kindness within
and eco-systemic compassion
communioned
communicated
through commonly-held metaphoric verbals
and metaphysical non-verbals,
motions and emotions also shared
without my own comfortably sacred faith community.
I worry this desire of mine
bears little difference
than a hope to live in a multicultural gym
rather than to come in,
invest in twenty aerobic minutes on empty rows of exercise bikes,
take a quick, very private, shower,
and leave enough hot water
for all future regenerations.
Efficient,
like commercial sandwich bread,
but not really the stuff of robust communion.
Because love is eternal
And morning light opens every colored flower
I'll breathe in their fragrance, and dream of you
Whether with a smile or in a garden
wearing a cotton dress cradled by the sun
wrapped in love's fullness, with its gentle sighs
as its rays enhance the glorious glow upon your face
When enchantment drifts, like a red cloud on the horizon
Etched in our hearts, to leave an enduring trace
as we count the days and nights, in love
When every moment of time is a ripple washing away imprints
from the moist shores of love that we hold precious
like a beacon casting our shadows upon the face of beauty
Because time is endless
I dream of you
7/21/14 contest Love is the Answer
new or old poems
The Unforgiven
In a town where even the law rests
and thieves do not break out of prison
Oh, this bonny night washing my feet
in the pool in the square where
fish die for lack of oxygen
This is the moment when the unseen
the population appears,
banished as they are to the sewers
eternal darkness.
Ah, the plaza bathed in white moonlight
and they dance so tender, fur to fur
noses to noses.
Inhaling the perfumed air of their existence
The sacrifice of living underground
makes sense when,
on a night like this, nature greets them
in their heroic effort
to keep lessening the waste humans
have left behind.