Long Wedged Poems
Long Wedged Poems. Below are the most popular long Wedged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wedged poems by poem length and keyword.
MR GREEDY
Mr Greedy could not eat any more
His bulging stomach was swollen and sore
Needed hospital care
But he couldn't get there
Cos he got wedged in the frame of the door...
SPOILT BRAT
A spoilt young daughter was having a moan
Santa didn't bring the latest I phone
Her dad said" hand me that
You ungrateful young brat"
And sent her off to her room to atone...
MA KELLY
Eighty year old Ma Kelly passed away
Her mean family didn't want to pay
So they filled her with concrete
Then put supports on her feet
And sold her as a statue on ebay...
SINBAD
For twelve camels Sinbad purchased a wife
But she gave him lots of grief and much strife
Tried to give her away
All his friends they did say
"A wife's not just for Christmas but for life" ..
CLIMATE CHANGE
Eskimos igloos started to buckle
Global warming for them is big trouble
They got home one day
And to their dismay
Their village had turned into a puddle...
NEW YEAR
If you go out celebrating new year
Do go easy on the whiskey and beer
Make sure you drive slowly
Cos you don't want to be
Stuck in a snow drift right up to your ear...
Written 30th December 2019.
Better still if you're driving DON'T DRINK.
Happy New Year to all.
There is a space still unknown
In the basement of my home
In the dirt there's gotta be treasure
Better go 'splorin' (for good measure)
A century ago, this house came to be
What I'll find, there's no guarantee
I can see old bottles, a coffee can or two
A light bulb, a glove and a very old shoe
Trying to get a smaller bottle wedged on the other side
A bit of history i did find, but bottle couldn't be pried
A penny, dating back one hundred forty years or more
Thirty of those years were before they even laid the floor!
In one hundred and ten years, no one cared to notice
This nice antiquity just lying right below us
It Gave me hope, to say the very least
Tenfold- my networth may have just increased!
Look as I may, even still... wish as I might
No treasures yet, so I'm calling it a night
All I found was extremely old plumbin'
Well, I guess
I shoulda' seen it comin' !
01-03-23
" I shoulda seen it comin' "
Contest entry submit
Sponsor: John Lawless
Slow motion agonised gravel crunch
Picks and flicks sharp stones under tyres
Glinted handle clicked forward introduces
Arresting view of her beauty polished
Soft and ready, yet bristled. This is her day
Ivory plumes escape cancels rear wheel
momentarily, somebody helps her collect them
Blipping her radiant expression from view for a second
Shaken cascade skirts slip into billowing dominion
Grazing the ground, her trembled fingers clutch a fold
Spring of chestnut curl renegades shine synchronised
Slide on Ivory sleeves, molest floating neck
- I have forgotten to swallow. A tennis ball wedged..
Leaf suffocated branches obscure me from her
Closer, towards the broad staircase, silk magnolia drifts
Accosted by the same scent, where together we spent...
Flourishing bloom steps deliberately, zig zag skirts
knead each tread, she turns her head, concern crosses
eyes which were mine, her alternate man ends me
Nonchalant, reaching the vast entry way, her lips part
Rise of her chest tauts her corseted gown
My brow bends, channels sweat to my eyelids
I don't think she's regretting it
Flushed airbrushed skin itching to begin story book..
Hopeful eyes, encouraged as a fresh deer captured
.... Now's her time to regret it
Rapid splinter branch shrieked pleas briefly snag
Barrel trained on traitor's veil, keyhole fixed
14th
We’re monopolized by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
absorbed by the clutter of the food tray.
Numbed by hours of jiggling,
the carting of torpid bodies through interminable distance,
we’re wedged now into boredom, uncomfortably numb.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls, few will scream.
We’ll keep decanting small bottles of vin de table,
butter buns.
As the aircraft plummets
and drops like a stone to certain death
we’ll still be struggling with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers, with small, molded cruets
oblivious now to anything less important.
Written: December 19, 2023
____________________________________________
In silken sheen of grace
with gleaming, auric strings
wedged ambrosian wonder;
once shown in ancient space
tough, spark us to ponder.
In silken sheen of grace
and I stroked the mauve scent,
and snow fell on the frame
with all plush of my heart
I sense it least would claim.
In silken sheen of grace,
I searched for unique yarns
what a charmed loom may pose
that caught the season's bloom;
they held their blossoms close.
In silken sheen of grace
the hazy breath of gold
the zooming, meager flame,
Its charm shielding my heart,
counting each one by name.
Nearly a decade is gone
Since I set my eyes on you;
Not that I didn’t want to see you,
Only that fate wedged us apart,
And denied me the priciest joy of my heart.
A now don’t know when, if ever
I will see you after so many days apart.
So much I treasure the times together spent
Before you kissed me adieu and went
To that secret place I do not know.
True I know some things I never did right:
That I took your love for granted oftentimes
And spurned the tender feelings you lavished on me.
If clocks were to be rewound the smallest bit,
You would in that auditorium sit,
And I behold your lovely face the first time.
A new, we would hold each other’s hand
And roam the city’s evening streets,
Until our feet and joints are sore and our lust
Rises to its breaking point,
And still keep walking
Till our legs are overwhelmed by dust.
Then, I would bear you to the safest place
And let your beauty quench me the rest of the night.
I would kiss your tasty lips and rid your legs of dust;
Wipe your sweet romantic tears with my tongue.
And then I would love you the last continuous time
Till the very end of the present eternity.
We’re absorbed
by the Saran-wrapped food,
the plastic cutlery,
tired brains monopolized
by the clutter of the meal tray,
numbed by hours of jiggling -
the carting of torpid bodies
through interminable distance,
wedged into
a restricted boredom.
Anesthetized – we fear nothing.
If the aircraft stalls,
if an engine fails
few will find the strength to panic,
we’ll keep decanting small bottles
of vin de table,
studiously apply hard butter
to soft buns.
As the aircraft plummets earthward
we’ll continue to struggle
with condiment sachets,
coffee creamers,
with small, molded cruets,
glad to be occupied
and totally blanked out
to what comes next -
or whatever.
Stuck on a hybrid labyrinth race track in undue course
Crash helmet cracked under the raw tempo of stagnation
Chequered flags waving but a motor running against the clock
In reverse and the traffic prohibits pit stops for tyres and fuel
Exhausted depleted high on adrenaline withdrawal
A silent movie plays on tiring spools of grey matter
More like a collection of photographs in faded sepia
An accident waiting to happen ready for another pile up
The gear box strains in overdrive and the pistons complain
Brake fluid seeps into the cockpit and floods the clutch
Hazards are blinking like a stroboscope and prism of pace
High octane acceleration on a road to immanent nowhere
Satellite navigation in conflict with his auto pilot
Cruise control on a highway to hell and beyond
Ejector seat wedged into a half open sun roof
Theodore calls 911 and the Thought Police arrive
Arsonists join the scene in fire engines stalled on the emergency lane
The ambulance doctor injects truth serum with dizzying speed
Body bags remain unopened but sanity is scraped off the road
Repackaged sealed in bubble wrap in case the airbag won’t open
In hospital he wakes off his trolley on a tiny stretcher
So convoluted they can’t find a straightjacket that fits
Confined to another bedlam on the psychiatry ward
And the dashboard flickers on the way to his lost mind
17th December 2019
Wedges
He looked at me
huge chestnut wedged
in happy teeth,
bushy tail,
fully fluffed,
soft warning
of a hard winter
approaching.
He did not have time
to talk
no chatter today,
only business,
no time to dance
with the Robins,
confer with the
Cardinals,
hang around the
water cooler.
The Vee’s of summer
honking
as they battle the
gridlock of migration,
a strange mimicking
of the farewell
to Cape Cod -
back-ups at the
Bourne and Sagamore
bridges. The warmth
of summer would
recede, as a late tide
on sunset’s emptying beach,
the cool ocean breeze
erase the evidence
from the sand.
Seagulls would bemoan
the shortage
of French fries,
return to the
fishing boats and
a sushi diet.
Dogs will sit
and whine as
they watch the
children disappear
into the big yellow boxes.
The brushstrokes of Fall
will color the horizon,
groups of crispy,
crayola colored leaves
dance around the
trunks of trees,
crocheting a quilt
to tuck under the
chin of old shade.
The songs
the tones and tenor,
the daily demeanor
will take on an urgency,
a purpose.
The squirrel stops,
perhaps a rodent
coffee break, sits
on the fence,
in the sun
as if reflecting,
and is off again
to the base of the
old Chestnut tree
to fill his mouth
with wedges of
the future.
For Kelly Deschler Summer’s End contest
8/28/2014
Who said:
"You don't realise what you've got, till it's gone."
In your absence I despise silence,
when you're gone loneliness visits,
but his friendship, I do not desire.
An empty scent circulates in the room.
Air is cold and crisp, all is black and white
with sad songs on repeat.
I find no peace listening to the rain since
you left me in the darkness of the eclipse.
Phone keeps ringing, but its not your name
flashing on display - I prefer a blank screen.
Not one voice seems to appease,
nor give me peace from this disease -
when you disappear like Houdini.
Yet your ghost lingers in the backdrop.
A candle quivers, dripping in tears of wax.
I don't blame your heart for its change,
but why so stubborn in bitter muteness.
Without you my soul resides in an empty trunk,
defaced with green moss, crawling with beetles.
Sanity is dripping like a leaking bottle of crimson water.
I remember when you were a wounded bird,
bleeding on a path to no where, unable to fly,
crying endlessly, yearning for your nest -
but now you have flown so far away.
Sometimes there is no patience in time,
especially when one closes their mind.
Without a chance to clarify confusion,
all is lost in ignorant translation.
Once, I had a million pieces of affection,
wedged between my soul, heart and mind,
but in your eyes they were rejected as unworthy.
Once what you loved, is now your enemy.
Today, I am the twin of sorrow,
tomorrow your twin will be regret
and you'll be crying when you're forgotten.
Simple Musing (fictional poem)
Silent One
20 November 2020
The quote is a line from the song "Big Yellow Taxi" by Joni Mitchell from the album Ladies of the Canyon (1970).