Long Wives Poems
Long Wives Poems. Below are the most popular long Wives by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wives poems by poem length and keyword.
A child…in a foreign land.
Where we come from—it's all just sand.
Deserted the desert...
but still feeling tethered
to the place that feels
forever home.
Yet—that place
we can no longer roam.
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Left the home land with legislative laws.
As they contained loads of legality flaws.
The colour of my skin cutting at me like a saw.
No jobs, no work, it was my last straw.
Left the land I knew to go and find more.
Knowing that the Foreign Land would have something better in store.
When I moved—I thought my troubles would be soothed.
But found other trouble,
my persistent presence made the locals grumble.
Looked at as an immigrant,
but every day—
a defendant.
"They are stealing our jobs!"you say.
"They are stealing our wives!"you convey.
You never stopped to think—
That just maybe...
we're trying our best?
Yet...
we will always
be seen as less?
At home,
we've got families to feed,
we've got people who are in need.
But what you fail to understand—
We can't help them...
unless we are in the Foreign Land.
Starry skies over Damascus
Like a star chart for the
bomber pilots eating
Milky Ways and lives
Chocolate in the desert
for desert in consumption
The poem could stop here
its pretty clear not pretty
Petty lives perambulating
hiding hobbling around
on what was their feet
foundations souls and
is their ruin's wreckage now
The planes feature logos
“Just do it”
“Whiter than white”
“Put the tiger in the tank”
“Eat confectionary be happy”
What an advertising space
for the daily news rounded
up like the refugees
refusing to be refuse
“Powered by democracy”
“Fuelled by share holdings”
“Rocket launches for a better world”
in the weeping nights and days
lactating for another holiday
of some on sunny beaches
oozing oil wells wealth
and inequality
Milk where it needs not be
in luxury not infant powder
hungry breasts run dry by hunger
sapped empty in the face
of some lives counting
more than others where
camouflage is but
a distant varnish
in the pursuit of power
Soon their will be billboards
“Baghdad was not built
in a moment” “Invest in
Kabul” “Concrete for Allepo”
“Live the dream”
“Life liberty and the
pursuit of happy-mess”
“Constructing globality”
Munching away in my
cushioned arm chair
built from greedy land mines
I collude
“You can have your milky ways”
if the bomber pilots did not
eat them all
Whose wives implant their chests
with silicone from
the valley of evil
that forgot
Instead the artificial brain
the heart transplant
Mindful disposition
of humanity
Looking
instead at the stars
spangled banners
of Damascus
Milky ways
Looking Forward to a Visit
By Franklin Price
06/21/2020 (Father's Day)
Looking forward to a visit
From two nephews and their wives
They're stopping on their way back home
To share a small part of their lives
David, Patti, Joe and Misty
Are the traveling fearsome four
Who will be here very soon
And knocking on our door
They are my brother “Buddy's” kids
His nickname growing up
Our family always called him that
From the time he was a pup
He's still with us, in our hearts.
His sons are on the way
To see their uncle and his wife
On this 2020 Father's Day
They both are married fathers
That's how to play the game
Sons, have sons, while having fun,
To carry on the name.
They'll spend a short time with us
Then they'll be Florida bound
Going home to see their families
That they love to be around
After spending a few hours
They'll be off to their own houses
We'll be glad they came to see us
Having brought their lovely spouses
He talked in his sleep
the pages to his nightmare
started when they met
she was Gothic
always dressed in black
forever a countenance of gloom
how they met is a different story
he soon moved in much to her chagrin
like a spider spins to her web
to catch a moth
she became his fire to his ice
melting his bonds
his relationship with her was soon thinning
he was her catch
one night towards the end he screamed in his sleep
he was talking ... then yelling for his life
panic stricken, sweat dripping from his brows
he grabbed her hard, shaking her
his words spurted out, like blood
you tried to kill me with a knife
you were hovering over me
I saw you
I saw you
you tried to kill me with a knife
his words, spurting out more blood
I saw you
I saw you
She returned his look
eyes boring into his
uncomforting
with a smile
so wry, so real, so scary
His mind paused
for reason
It paused for the seeds she planted
The two Ann Rule Books on her nightstand
that he feverishly read,
blood spurting out of it's pages
both book's genres of wives stabbing their husbands to death
and he began to put the puzzle together
heart pounding off the charts
of crops that she wanted to harvest in his head
of her deep rooted quests
he looked back at her,
birds only singing her tune, so robotic
her eyes vacant but real
the wry smile was still there
he screamed again
connie pachecho
1/11/17
Hey kid, it's been a while since you and I have talked in silence. In fact, it's been over a hundred years now. Just a quick little scribble to remind you of the ways you and I have lived in the past. remember those days when we were young and we lived carefree and wild. Those days of young when we played in the woods, went hiking, fishing and camping. Remember those days of young men when we would hit up the night clubs and party our brains out all night long, dancing and trying to pick up any young lady that was intoxicated enough to fall victim to us trying to fancy them and luring them into our flats and onto our cots, after the clubs closed. (Ah...those were the days). Remember the wives we've had and the children we've raised... I wonder how our great-great grandkids are? I wonder if we even have any? Who are they, what do they do...what are they like? Do you think they even know who we were, what we were, or how things used to be when we were alive? Are there still trees, plants and water still left on earth? Is earth still in existence? Have people finally come together (highly unlikely- I presume). Is white still white and black still black? Are men still men and women still women? The list can go on, and on, and on. So many questions, so many thoughts, so many...so many. Well kid, before I say so long and say "see ya soon- hopefully" And, before I put this letter in a balloon and send it up to the stars in hopes that it reaches you in the heavens one day. I just want to say "thanks" Thanks for being you, thanks for the life you lived and the paths you've chosen. Lastly, I am sending two balloons with this identical letter up so if and when you do capture these floating balloons a hundred years from now, remember to pop one when you catch them... pop it so that this letter can fall to earth so to remind people of how things used to be, how I was when I was alive, how lovely life used to be (for me). The other balloon and letter is yours to keep and treasure. See ya soon kiddo... Love you always, Self
Letter To My Future Self Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
9/21/2021
Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The sun descends this cloudless night
A moon for howling, full and bright
A moon by which the bats take flight
And wolf-men and the undead bite
Stretchered in, a bite mark cruel
He won’t heal but must refuel
But medics’ blood runs warm and free
In this midnight A&E
Devour the sick by full-moon light
Bed by bed and bite by bite
Amid the carnage and confusion
A foul unholy blood transfusion
A werewolf with a stethoscope
Takes his patient’s final hope
Blankly eyes his victims’ notes
And slashes their inviting throats
Werewolf docs and Vampire nurses
Send their patients home in hearses
That my friend is not the worst
They go home with a raging thirst
Home to guzzle son or daughter
Wives bring priests with holy water
Silver bullets, wooden stake
Cruciform her fingers make
Vampires drinking O-neg smoothies
Snarl, “You’ve seen too many movies.”
Hurl away depleted kin
Snatch the priest for one more sin
Bloodied canines catch the moon
Glinting as the werewolves croon
Shed their clothing in the mud
Sniffing out the virgin’s blood
Through the night they drink their fill
Bite or slash their every kill
Wounds the Gods will not let heal
Seeping blood that can’t congeal
Policeman wary, raps the door
Slashed, undead, he hits the floor
Spurting blood he blinks an eye
As a glimmer tints the sky
Then as lupine pelts recede
Kindred canines cease to feed
At this dawn’s first gasp they flee
To that blighted A&E
We had Gumby
and Pokey,
And Sanford & Son.
We had Mark Spitz,
And Monty Python.
We had Lenny Bruce,
And Chips.
We had the Sex Pistols,
And A Ballroom Blitz.
We had Martin Scorsese,
And Happy Days.
We had the
Stepford Wives,
And Roe VS Wade.
We had What's up Doc,
and the Rockford files.
We had Gay Pride Parade,
and I can see for miles.
We had Women's Lib,
And Emergency.
We had One Flew Over
The Cuckoo's Nest,
And Mohamed Ali.
We had A Star is Born,
And little Chinatown.
We had Jesus
Christ Superstar,
And Foxy Brown.
We had the VCR
And Adam-12.
We had White Lightning,
and Josey Wales.
We had the Gay
Rights movement,
And Dragnet.
We had the Deer Hunter,
and Stanley Kubrick.
We had the Iran hostage crisis,
and a Six-million-dollar man.
We had Carnal Knowledge,
And The Stand.
We had the
Mississippi Queen
And Tony Orlando.
We had Abba singing
about Fernando.
We had Mick Jagger,
And John Wayne.
We had Rare Earth,
And Fire and Rain.
Turbo1904 ?
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
We need to start out with the truth whether we may be "Old or in our Youth! The truth is the "Light of the World" for men ,women,boys ,babies,and girls! We all need to realize ,and "comprehend something that is of worth to us:and "That is: No matter"How many "Husbands" "A Wife" has :The "Husband"needs to "Comply to wives "Wishes"! We continue to realize that equality is real if we understand that": "STOP"! We understand that "No matter"How many Wives a "Husband has the "Wife" needs to "Comply to the "Husbands wishes"!!!! Non-Compliance is the decree of a "Divorce" of "Husband or Wife and that is the reality! Some "Husband" has many wives,and "Some"Wife" has many Husbands!!!! Compliance is the key to "Husband and Wife"relationships,so that the relationships will "STAY AND NOT CEASE""To Be"!!!! Husband and Wife relationship should continue "TO BE" no matter how many relationships become "HUSBAND AND WIFE":because "HUSBAND AND WIFE"happens "INSTANTLY"......Smitten by the "LOVE IN YOU AND ME"!!! This is Reality! You might fall in "LOVE" instantly? Maybe? It has happened to me! Instantly! Smitten and Bitten: Instantly! When you "Feel" :You will be connected to "Spiritually",and "The Lord God Almighty"who is "Spirit and created "Flesh and Blood",and that which is "Animate and that which is "Inanimate" ,and "I call that :"REALITY" to realize you are you,and I am me! REALITY! You are "My Wife and I am Your Husband",and we both are still "Free"!!!! I am not tied down to you,and you are not tied down to me!!!! I am a good "Husband",and you are a good "Wife",and being "Good to each other is what it means "to bring "Esteen";Being Husband and Wife like it is and like it will always be! Praise "The Lord"....To God Give the Glory. AMEN.