Long Widower Poems
Long Widower Poems. Below are the most popular long Widower by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Widower poems by poem length and keyword.
I loved you, once upon a time
and then you went away
and with no reason to the rhyme
it falls on me to say
to speak, create, and change what’s done
so I can be alright
and live today, until it’s done
and find you in the night.
So I imagine, through the fog,
you found your mom and dad,
your brother Michael, and your dog,
all the joy you had.
I imagine you have found
you never needed me.
What’s gone will always come around,
and now we both are free.
I’ll let you go, and fly away,
I’ll let my spirit rest.
I’ll spend no time on yesterday,
but try to live my best.
I may or may not shed a tear,
but not from guilt nor shame,
and all will wane each passing year,
each time I hear your name.
Goodbye my sweetheart, so long, love
you’ll always be a piece
of who I am, who I’ve become
and all which shall increase.
But you are happy now, and healed,
in your great afterlife.
No more sadness shall I feel,
because I’ll be alright.
The old widower kept a tidy yard.
Bright flowers -snowball hedges,
a sparrow house and apple tree
gnomes chasing ceramic frogs
pinwheels spinning sunlight
round and round silver dreams.
He put a picket fence around his little Eden.
Like an artist framing a masterpiece.
It wasn't long before the graffiti ogres wormed in.
They inked a scruffy tattoo on his Mona Lisa.
Kicked in a few of her teeth.
Turned her into "The Scream".
He painted over those angry scribbles,
but they kept pace.
His glitter garden was soon overrun by hate.
The ogres stepped up the assault,
slashing another petal of his peace.
He finally caved in, taking down the remains of the fence...
One night he had a big bonfire.
One by one he fed his defaced masterpiece to the flames.
Afterwards, he didn't frolic in the yard as much.
The hedges grew wild like green afros on fire.
The breeze shunned the pinwheels
All the frogs and gnomes fled.
The birdbath cracked and bled dry.
Not long after, the old widower died.
For "sails" drifted about his rotting apple yard.
The ogres moved on to the next Eden,
the one right next to mine.
Brutally you entered our community
Gradually putting us in research calamity
You took lives
Like you are marrying wives
You have made wives widow
Making fear to enter us through window
Husbands widower
Children fatherless
Health sectors “useless”
And as if it is not enough
Like you just came to catch fun
You came without any concrete clue
On how to eradicate you
But note this…
Your days are numbered
Because today were celebrating your cruelty
Raising awareness among humanity
But soon…Yes Soon!!!...
Soon and very soon…
CANCER!!!
You shall be a long forgotten history
Just as your predecessors’ story
Because WE CAN
And we shall eradicate you
SAY NO TO CANCER
Go for regular check-ups
And live a healthy “cancerless” life
NOT TO CANCER
ABSOL - 07032277508
I had not realized how suave and smooth you are
Or how handsome you can be to others
Until I happened upon your social media page
Not the one with me and the kids
The other one where your name is Rob.
I had not realized until that second that I was dead.
When I saw widower next to your photo, I was stunned.
The story of my death told delicately and delightfully
Seemed to stir up empathy in women from every direction.
I wonder if you took off your ring when you met them?
I had not realized that those weekends where you had to work
Were spent doing the kind of work you liked to do the best.
No wonder you were no longer excited about plowing at home.
You were too tired, I am sure.
I wonder if you showed them a photo of your dead wife.
I had not realized that my parents were right
When they said they would never trust you,
That “something was off, that you were over secretive.
I sold your treasured new Lamborghini today.
The one you refused to put a car seat into.
I left your half on the counter.
It came to $1.75 cents.
This is good bye.
It had been a bad month; Jim was exhausted from death.
He drove to their favorite lake and took off his clothes.
Wandered into the cold water in his skivvies, hoping for life.
His mouth made a loud gasp as the icy water hit his lower back.
It was twilight, the woods around the lake were ominous.
He felt the trees looking at him, waiting in anticipation.
Maybe they thought he would kill himself.
Was he that desperate?
He had not felt anything but grief since his wife died.
The icy lake was changing him from grief stricken widower to survivor.
He began to shiver and shake; his teeth were chattering.
You are alive! An inner voice said, in a celebratory way.
Jim knew that he had needed this. He heard a tiny giggle.
His head snapped to his right. It was his wife’s voice.
But she was dead, wasn’t she? He expected to see her.
There were no other words. He dove under the water.
Expected to see her as a mermaid, but she was not flesh.
She might never be flesh again. But then again, she might be.
His mother believed in reincarnation, and there was a baby coming.
He drove to his daughter’s house to have a cup of coffee.
Deciding to live.
Home alone lived the widower, Fred
with no inkling at all in his head
of how to clean house.
Without his dear spouse,
Fred was facing his clutter with dread.
Everywhere there were cobwebs and dust.
Even pieces of old pizza crust!
And a horrid new smell
Fred began to inhale
while surveying the mess with disgust.
It smelled just like a rat there had died,
so Fred flew into action. He cried,
“Cleaning service I’ll pay.
I must call them today,
and next week I will search for a bride!”
Written March 16, 2012
For Francine Roberts'
Cobwebs and Dust Poetry Contest
Theme: Cobwebs and Dust
It had been a bad month; Jim was exhausted from death.
He drove to their favorite lake and took off his clothes.
Wandered into the cold water in his skivvies, hoping for life.
His mouth made a loud gasp as the icy water hit his lower back.
It was twilight, the woods around the lake were ominous.
He felt the trees looking at him, waiting in anticipation.
Maybe they thought he would kill himself.
Was he that desperate?
He had not felt anything but grief since his wife died.
The icy lake was changing him from grief stricken widower to survivor.
He began to shiver and shake; his teeth were chattering.
You are alive! An inner voice said, in a celebratory way.
Jim knew that he had needed this. He heard a tiny giggle.
His head snapped to his right. It was his wife’s voice.
But she was dead, wasn’t she? He expected to see her.
There were no other words. He dove under the water.
Expected to see her as a mermaid, but she was not flesh.
She might never be flesh again. But then again, she might be.
His mother believed in reincarnation, and there was a baby coming.
He drove to his daughter’s house to have a cup of coffee.
Deciding to live.
O
Never have I, ever murdered anyone;
Never have killed with my tongue
O
And never have I raped anyone
God’s daughters are more precious than pleasure;
Pleasures has its points this emotion part of us;
So in love not lust let us treat them right;
Honor and adorn them
Shall a child go to bed and rise up hungry;
Should a widower be homeless and starving?
O
Haven’t stolen anymore;
Stopped taking things that not mine, anymore;
A rise of temporal-satisfaction one gets from thief;
Pleasures has its points this emotion part of us;
So these few sins do I may or may not acknowledge;
Maybe someone’s done one of all of them;
The promise is the remission of all sins;
First if we believe, sincerely repent, turn around
Believe on our Lord, Savior Jesus Christ (believe)
Then shall we be free, freed from sins
O
This is my testimony, Alleluia
8/14/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Beautiful lace-gowned maiden dark of hair
Waits patiently for him. Please do not stare.
He will be out of the house at his usual time.
Taking her arm in a gentleman’s gesture sublime.
They will start at the pink roses, ending under the thyme.
He will do the talking but she certainly does not mind.
Step back in the shadows, and slow down your rapid sounding breath.
Or their yearly walk will be cancelled as quickly as her death.
Here comes the old wizen widower now. Something is wrong.
He is quieting himself, trying to hear his love’s song.
Was that a glimpse? Did you see her my friend?
Hush now, unless you want their moment to end.
Ah, there she is. And much lovelier than I had ever guessed.
They walk toward the roses, her arm lovingly next to his chest.
Fifty sad years they have walked this way on the second of June.
Some day they will do it nightly, and much closer to the moon.
We watch from the shadows, my companion and I.
We do a great job of not making any noise, even a silent cry.
The ghost and her husband, enjoying a night made in heaven.
Their children never knowing, not one of their seven.
toward thee spunky gal,
whose impregnation and debut appearance
way to brief a tale for Aesop
cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted),
out the birth canal aye did bop
analogously compared
to a mealy mouthed measly crop
a spindly tangle of arms and legs
radiated (starfish like)
dangled and would uselessly drop
like a raggedy ann male counterpart
(raggedy andy - how original)
with limbs that didst flop
and tis no small wonder, thyself as one
newborn baby body electric
easily confused with bony glop,
which skimpy weight
leant convenience as sigh grew older
to alternate jumping
(ala pogo stick mode) and hop
from one skinny spindle shank leg to another,
and manifold orbitz whip
sawing round the sun
bore witness to puny laughable specimen
of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight)
grew long straggly hair,
which NO ONE (except me) could touch,
nor most definitely NOT lop
off (this fetish) compensation
for very slight physique
in dewed time begot
pencil necked geek milksop,
now at an age prowl lix sing viz
dragging, crawling, battling...
slight abdominal bulge
unlike widower octogenarian biological pop
whose once strapping superman
like build atrophying (sad sight)
since grim reaper put objectionable stop
upon head of harriet harris,
whereat two and a half score years
her longevity did top.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
now, comb may tooth how zen,
sans eight plus ten
'twill be thirteen yars
when me late mum agonizingly relinquished
an indomitable loo ving life,
which strong fighting spirit
(spittle and vinegar) yen
reached a juncture,
(sans metastasized ovarian cancer)
forewent heroic measures, which ken
not avail bottled anger within this sole son
telling thee, he didst love ye
never communicating NOR often!