Long Wound up Poems
Long Wound up Poems. Below are the most popular long Wound up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wound up poems by poem length and keyword.
By the time I was thirteen she assumed
It has not been eaten,
eaten by those whom liked to eat
stuff such as that.
As soft and as pliable as a tongue once was
Youth is,
To feel pain was not in our young thoughts.
We didn't have shoe's, not out of need
But what's necessity?
Tree trunks, but what of color specifically,
And pretty green bushes, with thorns.
There were other times where we forgot.
And as wound up as tight as a spring,
The handle time forgot when then released.
And on her breasts chalk,
was mixed with snow, one might think we were English.
Her door with numbers,
Was painted red and mine was green and blue.
Me – Irish catlick working class:
mantillas, martyrs, Maynooth, Mass.
You – a literal Lutheran lass,
all pretzels, prenups, Mama Cass.
It never could have ever worked:
those ambiguities that lurked
were knees that, one day, would have jerked,
and we’d have wound up Douglas Sirked.
Your Nancy Clutter beats my Holden
(less Marlon Brando, more Karl Malden).
The pond we’re on was never golden –
winter white-out wiped out Walden.
I would have wearied of your sermons,
short Sheridans and shallow Shermans,
your Sophie Tuckers, Ethel Mermans,
poe-faced Pennsylvania Germans.
Ignore the stranger on the shore,
by Stan and Stella set no store.
Don’t give a damn what Della wore,
or Mary Tyler any more.
ONE NIGHT STAND?
It seemed so simple at the start,
A one-night stand; no questions asked,
Then back to hum-drum daily life.
Her face, all innocent as she approached
And perched beside me at the bar.
“Would a gentleman buy a lady a drink?”
Lowering my gaze to the too tight tee shirt
And the all too short mini, I wondered
About the ‘lady’ bit
But then of course the ‘gentleman’ bit
Was a generous description.
A dry martini was her choice
(I would have sworn she’d say a G and T)
And so I joined her, even though
I’m normally a whiskey man.
And, as we sipped, the thought occurred to me
We must have seemed to all the world
A sophisticated pair
And afterwards, as you’ll have guessed,
We wound up in my bachelor pad
For a euphemistic cappuccino.
After which my memory is rather hazy,
Till I awoke with sunlight streaming through,
And the space beside me cold and empty.
A note by the kettle said a simple, “Thank you”
I thought that was the end of it, but no,
The nightmare had just begun
23rd September 2022
Chapter 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Matt Caliri
Joseph and Mary tried to find shelter but they were unable.
Finally, an innkeeper gave them permission to use his stable.
Jesus was born in that stable and Mary put him in a manger.
An angel appeared to Joseph in a dream and told him that Jesus was in danger.
An evil king was sending people to kill the Son of God.
The king who did this was none other than King Herod.
Mary and Joseph took Baby Jesus away, they had to flee.
Jesus and his family wound up living in Nazareth of Galilee.
Because Jesus was perfect, he was a man who people could trust.
Jesus and his father love us so much that Jesus died for all of us.
I was taking out my trash can
When I thought I saw a worm
But I realized it was a caterpillar
When the thing began to squirm
It crawled across the cobblestone
And made its way onto the grass
But when my puppy went to do his thing
It wound up on its a...
My puppy tried to get it off
By rolling in the dirt
He rolled so fast, came off his a...
And it landed on my shirt
It crawled onto my collar
Then, it crawled into my hair
So, I shuck my head and flung it off
And it flew into the air
A bird upon my roof-top
Caught the 'pillar in mid-flight
And fed it to his chickadees
Before they tweeted... a sweet Good Night!
Metrical Tale Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Hilo Poet
1/4/2023
It's dark in here; but I'll hang
I should feel fear; I'm too young to understand such a thing
Why do I miss your touch? I was a child; you were a teen—
Life found no victim, just an object.
Your reject taught me things from 3 till 9.
Never had a childhood that was actually mine,
Oh, mother, why are my words a lie?
When his, you can not believe or deny
How did my heart begin to love?
A feminine touch so much...
Was but a toy that knew none such
Yet, here I am; cherishing the female form
Enjoyed is every moment where touch is warm
Finding happiness in long blocks and hours
Remembering moments that are better than ours
I picked up a pen for the first time to write you out
Wound up to be a night of sleep that I did without
By taking my innocence away from me
I wrote things to damn you in poetry
What a brother does, a child can not understand—
Life later found no object, just permanence
In this closet closed; from the bar, I hang
Feeling you snug and secure on my left side is always my side of choice for you. No matter in light or darkness I can always rely on your word. Every hour, minute, and second. As much as life has us spinning you never seem to complain. Continuously spinning in circles in my face and in yours. It’s like my heart is synchronized with your constant beat. Whenever I feel uneasy or unsure I can always look at you for reinsurance to put my mind at ease. Stop my heart from racing. I can’t control how life just keeps going. Continually flipping over the hour glass. It never stops. Just like how I rely on you.... so does the rest of the world.You help me see digital. No matter the price we all have the same concept. We all need the same comfort. A wake up call. I could never chose anything else over you. Nothing can satisfy or organize my life and my mind like you. You bring me piece. And I feel peace. So shiny and glorifying. I’ll always wear you well. Rather it’s on my left side or keeping you close in my pocket. Sometimes you can get wound up. Sometimes we all need a battery to keep us energized again, or we can hop on the solar bandwagon and ride this wave together. I always wanna feel you beat against my skin. Your my metronome. I feel safe with your hands all over me. Steady, hard working and consistent with out worry. There will be a day where you stop for me and I’m no longer here. But you will be. Passing a dozen obstacles and never running out of strength is admirable. Your power will live on. You carry our legacy. We’ve made history. You’re love is timeless.
My morning walk is sandwiched
‘Tween the river and the road
And I’ve seen a homeless guy there
With a tent as his abode.
Several others sleep on benches
And one slumbers on the ground,
Yet since yesterday a couple
On a mattress can be found.
They were curled up under covers
With no pillows and no sheets
Underneath a concrete overpass
Connecting to the streets.
Though at night it must be private,
In the early morning sun
They were there on view for exercisers
Out to walk or run.
Most just gave a glance and passed them
But I couldn’t help but muse
How they wound up on that mattress,
Not a “bedroom” one would choose.
Life is sometimes cruel and heartless,
Filled with status that appalls
And I felt for that poor couple
Who, at least, deserved some walls.
...and the wind..!
was,
electric.
there was water..!
there was sun..!
...it was all renewable...
the energy,
powered,
sustained,
life..!
Fossil liquids burning
emitting toxins
that was OUR mistake.
From the day a human kick started
wound up the first combustible engine..!
The first spill in any ocean
should have been our clue.
It was what cigarettes was to lungs-
-what alcohol was to brain cells.
It was a human error,
a human error so huge
that like a mythical dragon
assumed a life of its own
consumed the will
the power
the limited minds
of limited men.
Unlike the giant beast
veiled as nuclear power
with its unlimited potential
that would have wooed the minds
of the greatest among us,
oil from its inception
had the smell of destruction on its breath.
It would in its own way
fulfil the prophecy
the world would end
with a whimper not a bang.
We saw its horns
its bright red skin
its pitch fork
but we signed up willingly
...and from that day on
our eternal souls were damned.
24~10~2014
Closure, the hunter no longer over your shoulder,
fixing you in his steely sights,
last rites put on hold,
too tightly rolled,
sold on and scrapped
to take red back to black
and get back to the track at last.
What's past is past,
what's you is new and yet somehow you still knew.. all along
it can't ever be wrong
cos wrong's just a song sung to the need to be right
when your wound up too tightly, it might be
that this time you will tread even more lightly.
It's tough but you're growing
the cold winter owing spring late in the sewing.
Maybe they wont pick up your trail,
fail to pick up the scent of a day spent running
just to pay rent
but it's here for the taking,
a day in the making with nothing to pay.
You worked hard for today.
You worked hard in your own way.
A way deep inside.
The steeper the ride the straighter and true.
Asleep beside the way to break through wouldn't do
but you're wide eyed too
resolute and keen
to cross lines drawn by men in machines
who's dreams leaked out slowly and steady.
We grow when we're ready.