Long Woodwork Poems
Long Woodwork Poems. Below are the most popular long Woodwork by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Woodwork poems by poem length and keyword.
My Childhood Home
My lovely childhood home, I miss it so...
built Eighteen Eighty-Six, so long ago.
Three floors, all rooms with mantled fireplaces;
carved woodwork, archways, spindled winding stair;
cathedral ceilings, sparkling chandelier
in dining room enjoyed on holidays.
Third floor not used but built with parkay floors
and doors that opened to small balconies.
Off the front door, a porch wrapped 'round two sides...
was like a fairy tale when I was young.
Such lovely grounds; garage with two horse stalls
and covered sleigh with velvet seats of red.
White gravel paths with gardens either side;
the rolling lawn, majestic tall pine trees
and rippling stony brook below the hill.
My childhood home fulfilled my childhood dreams–
so happy there with my dear family.
Until I married, it was home to me.
And since home now is not too far from it–
I often pass the site of my old house.
On left, before I pass under the bridge
that sprawls across the Hudson River now–
the empty view brings sadness to my heart.
To build that bridge they tore my old home down–
the only house to make this sacrifice–
The vision of my childhood home is gone.
As I ride by I feel them wave to me...
the ghosts of past, and my dear family.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Enchanted House
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 05/23/2016
~1st Place~
Contest: A Child's First Home
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Judged: 10/17/2015
Note: Newburgh-Beacon Bridge was completed and opened in November 1963
New York State claimed our home via eminent domain and purchased it in 1960
My brothers were building a deck with a supervision of someone
And when they finished, I thought it was the most beautiful deck
I've ever seen
The wood looked so nice
And the woodwork and the shape
I just loved it
Until they tore it down
And built another one later
since they now know the know-how
I never did like the 2nd deck
It just doesn't look the same
doesn't feel the same
For a long time I would never know why they did that
I could never understand it
Their reason? It looked old
In my mind it still looked the same
as I haven't been home for a long time
And I am still wanting to bring the old one back
So that is what it is in our mind
If you love someone or something
It never goes old in your mind
You still love it no matter what as time goes on
That's why it matters to treasure things you love
as it occupies a piece of your memory
You usually don't remember a lot of things
- only things that stand out in your mind
Take good care of that treasure trove
You don't want to lose it
Ahh what do I do if I lose it?
I would go nuts lol
That deck is still in my heart
Would my brothers tear it down if they had known it?
Yeah lol
But I may stop them
Kudos
What is this philandering all about?
Every time I think about it I want to shout
The music is playing without an operator
And the car is driving without a driver
Reckless lives, drinking carelessly all night
And they are getting ready to start a fight
The evening is drawing nigh
heaven is communing with the sky
And here I am sitting in the drive way
Looking for a quiet place to stay
I just have this uneasy feeling
that keeps coming and going,
It is not a feeling of tiredness
It is not feeling of sadness;
And it is not a feeling of hopelessness
It is a feeling of longingness,
Bundled with a special gift of forgiveness
I want to share it and I want to declare it
The big round moon with its radiant light
is buried in the East
It spilling it’s light over the street
The coconut trees are standing tall above me
They are laden with coconut big and small
Its core is pregnant with juice
and they look very loose,
Barking dogs congregates in the street
Holding conference in the deep
And the grilling sound from the woodwork shop
is giving me the creep
They are giving it all what they have got
While they get ready for the final shot
They have to meet a bid quota based on the island's order
The tree stands breathless in the dark
And the wind rattles silently through them
offering some hope and consolation
The day has come and gone when
I should have walked on the lawn,
But still you did no come
And here I am still standing in the mud
My feet are hurting and my spirit is aching
I looked around for some consolation
But every day I face a new frustration
Waiting for what I really don’t know
Everyone wants to end this reality show
And find a different way to go
the city crowd is reduced
And everyone seems so confused
When your heart is heavy
and your mind is still
When the music stops playing,
and the cake is baked
I will disappear through the iron gate
I am waiting
I sat in the high chair with my legs crossed grasping for fresh air, perspiration is running down my dry face and my back is soaked with grace. The musky smell of the closet room backed me up into a corner and choking the dignity out of me. I look upon the roof to seek solace for my soul but the one hundred degree heat around me is scorching the hell out of me. It sends smoke up to the roof and engulfs the entire village smoke billows near and far chopping down every tree in its path and in second the ashes moves swiftly with the wind.
It’s my fire and it’s running hot, it’s my fire and I will give you all that I’ve got. When I see your face my heart is set ablaze, when I see your face, I am compelled to run the race. From I set eyes on you, it’s like a dream is about to come through, a dream that has long been forgotten and seem impossible to materialize but when I see your face I know you will come knocking at my gate.
I know nothing much about you but my heart is aching for you, how and when will the chapter ends, destiny is waiting for us around the bend. We have so much in common and I can feel you from a distance, the fire and the rain make no bones I will be there, but you must find me if you care.
I have been sitting in this place for so long composing different types of song, songs that will never be heard; songs whose rhythm can only be heard from the instrument of my heart beat.
It is the natural beauty that accentuate the elegance in you and the childlike spirit that’s surrounds you, and the feverish smile upon your lips looking at me from a distance and making your final wish. Oh if I could only touch the innocence in you.
I have been sitting in this space for more than three years with finger moving up and down the key board and a cantankerous old woman screaming at my door. The stench from the sewage perfumes the air saturating the sound of laughter far and near. The drilling sound of the machine penetrate the woodwork shop and land gracefully on the roof top .I sits quietly on the roof top giving you all that I have got.
The temperature is winding down and we will walk hand in hand wearing that golden crown. We will open all the doors of the prison cell and fly to Las Vagas and there we will wed. The fire is blazing and my heart is racing and my spirit is content.
You Come Out of the Woodwork
By Franklin Price
12/4/2017
You come out of the woodwork
Some from many years ago
Looking for the spotlight
For the fifteen minute show
Look what now is happening
When you to tell your youthful tale
Others jump the wagon
And the numbers make me pale
Many of you justified
Others stretch your youthful views
To degrade some reputations
Have your names within the news
Shame on you who waited
And let others feel the same
For whatever was the reason
Did not spread the pervert's name
Some would profit in the process
When the power copped a feel
Were paid off with the big bucks,
Money made it no big deal
Now that it's the thing to do,
You expose the nasty guys
Point the finger at them
Claim it's them that you despise
A score more may have followed you
But if you were the first
You should not be the hero
For not telling, should be cursed
If you were the first abused,
What the pervert did was wrong
If you had stood up firmly then
Others could not sing your song
The blame is on the dirt at first
For those who followed, some's on you
Would have saved the shame, of some of them,
If you had stood when times were new
Women of a certain age
Remember, when in school,
Boys did woodwork, girls
Home economics, as a rule.
The boys made houses for the birds –
They sanded, sawed and nailed
While girls both cooked and sewed,
Which every housewife’s job entailed.
When reminiscing with some friends,
We all could recollect
We had to sew an A-line skirt
For teachers to inspect.
Each one of us had moms like mine,
Who, knowing how to sew,
Helped stitch the skirt on her machine,
So we’d be good to go.
The memory brought laughter
Of our common circumstance,
But I might’ve made a better birdhouse
If I’d had the chance.
the people who love me
for how colorful I am
are few and far between
I’ve learned to keep
my cards close to my chest
I just carry on and do my own thing
years of their raised eyebrows
shrugging shoulders
lack of time for listening
general lack of interest
and minimal validation
cruel and callous comments
why not encourage me
or any other kid
who still has dreams
wanting to flaunt their colors
hopes and ambitions
nurturing the confidence
to create their vision
for standing out in a world of apathy
let’s you and me
wipe the dust off our dreams
and boost their colors
muster all the validation
from deep within
‘cause once dreams have come true
the magic happens
validation and appreciation
come out of the woodwork
because in the end
dreams contribute
to the higher cause
close your eyes and block off
those nasty naysayers
picture those supporters all around you
they don’t know it yet
they’re just waiting to see
your colorful finished product
AP: 3rd place 2020
The day after Valentine's Day,
for most may be sublime,
as a day achieved a measure
of some success, while
others gave it no light of
day most likely from
lacking a partner and
therefore gave it the
right of way so as not to
upend somebody's
prospects.
They would make some
sort of remedy to either
fill the void, or most
respectfully, start out
afresh and find somebody
special that'll be the
impetus for next year's
scheduled soiree.
Yet there is that one
element that would
toss the monkeywrench
into the woodwork, one
that seldom heard in
open conversation,
and that would be,
infidelity.
So Valentine's Day,
seems also to be in
reserve for even
those who do not
deliver flowers
with the unsigned
card at the front
of the door.
Two Thousand Sixteen's Coming
By Franklin Price
4/21/2015
Two thousand sixteen's coming
It's not that far away
Politicians from the woodwork
Are coming out to play
Posing and expounding
Until their breaths are spent
On the negatives of others
As they run for president
It's not the things for which they stand
Or the good things that they did
It's the bad things of their opponent
As a stupid teenage kid
There's no recollection out of bounds
How far fetched to mind it seems
It may not have even happened
May have come to them in dreams
While you're deciding how to vote
Listen closely clear your mind
Search for one who speaks of self
Maybe one of them you'll find
If you do and they make sense
Plans for the populous
Get behind push them along
Climb on the campaign bus
This searching is the hardest job
For which anyone applies
For politicians fool us
Put blinders on our eyes
Blinders are for horses
Not for presidential races
Look closely at the candidates
And for their second faces
Work Work Work Work Work Work
Long weeks with a boss who is such a jerk
The world might end if the words thank you left his lips, jerk
Nothing but a jerk I tell you, he’s nothing remotely like Captain Kirk
I’m a baker in a country bakery, I’m not an office clerk
Not even once a year do I get a perk
Week after week just like clockwork
Mondays and Tuesdays I am off work
While the rest of the world is hard at work
Weekends to me just mean more work
Always excluded from weekend parties, I go berserk
It’s been twenty years now, so really I’m way beyond berserk
I’m now an outcast totally forgotten by the network
I’ve never called in sick, duties I refuse to shirk
But the boss laughs and gives nothing more than a smirk
I dream of doing other things like fancywork, woodwork or artwork
But my weekends aren’t for much more than leisurely housework
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on February 23, 2018 for contest FRIDAY FEELING sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 5TH