Short Cassette Poems
Short Cassette Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cassette by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cassette by length and keyword.
You’ll find us tied up with regret
We elephants never forget
This isn’t myth bunk
Thoughts can’t stay in a trunk
But play with the brain’s tape cassette
Just
a casket
of clothing-
helped girls become
wives.
Inspiration :
Filles a l cassette-sent by the Missisippi Compant in the 1700's to marry French
settles in Luisiana.
Jobs, wives, none, but they love me, and I love my cats
They’d rather play grunge in the garage than chase rats
Learning Alanis Morrisette
discovered her on my cassette
Taste in music changes, I must say they drive me bats
Listen to poem:
Finding a cassette tape from 1962,
Gave me the idea of rerecording it for you.
Hearing our melodic childhood voices soar,
I wept as magical memories came to the fore.
Just sharing with you makes me love him more.
Fill your glass of gin
when you drive
that's the end.
Play your cassette of songs
when death visit you
and you'll be healed.
Burn your mouth with cigar
when loneliness sits you in
and you're welcoming dreams.
Forelsket feelings from celestia,
let yourself fall into that blessing.
Cassette mix created just for you,
may coax us into undressing.
Pillow talk so soft and savage,
slow down get a little deeper.
Intro lines are not needed now,
blow me kisses make my soul stir.
My heart feels like wild flowers
bursting from ash
ready to show you how vibrant
only you can make me feel
your kisses leave me weak and
your laughter makes me smile
a sound I can replay like an old cassette
I close my eyes and I'm there
with you in the night I wish
would never end
Strange,
But I've seen you
Everywhere lately.
Caramel colored
Girls, either you
or your daughter.
I'm not quite
Sure.
But I laugh inside.
The Challenger may
Have exploded, but
We didn't.
The cassette tapes
May have been lost.
But not the smiles,
the cupcakes,
the ruler,
and what was most important.
It was a wonderful year -
nineteen hundred and eight-five,
the first time I'd known mutual love.
Physical touch was our love language,
and yet we were eight thousand miles apart
when calls were a week's pay...
and so, you sung words of affirmation,
your voice on cassette, the Christmas carols
that so touched my heart.
Audio pop
Sniff the notes
Smiley stereo the pop recordings
Rhythm and blues
Heart so jazzed up
Country western cowboys snooze
Passionate is the stereo recorder payola
Silent stenography
Turntable record player
A tap happy cassette
Transfers to 8-track tralalalala
This and a concert music
And masked voices
Symphony
12/28/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
Need you,
I really do need you;
Lord, I need you;
I need you;
Lord I need you here;
Need you, near me;
Someday,
Maybe, I will someday;
Be up there;
Be with you;
Meet with you, be with you in the air;
Need you;
I really do need you;
Lord, I need you;
I need you;
Lord I need you here;
Need you here, beside me;
(From 1985 James E. Lee Sr. cassette/album/anthology " NEED YOU"
5/1985
1985, 2013©
I'm a restless dream rustler
Tryin to catch what I can't keep
I'm a fine wine guzzler
Who can't seem to get no sleep
Bases loaded and I'm pitchin
I'm like the bases basically
When I awoke was in the kitchen
Drinkin coffee in my sleep
I had a lifetime to be lonely
But I chose to keep your company
Throw out a lifeline honey
I'm losing the grip on my sanity
*lyrics written for the Denim Dirt Farmers
unpublished cassette: "A Lifetime" ©1996
Quicksand caught generation epoch,
restless whirring of a drill in the dust.
Zenith of color shifts saturation to none,
black and white film on video cassette.
Ensnared in a cage lowering to molten,
hourglass is losing sand to run dry.
Eyes fixate to the sunny horizon,
flicker dims as monsters crawl,
from beneath beds, closets,
bathroom stalls.
Those noises,
creaks in the floor,
are very real.
Ignore them,
rummy for thy belly to fill.
Wake up, morning
-
Waking up, from the cold water;
walking over it; a spider,
is moving with lame laziness
towards its unaware breakfast.
Heat generated first clouds,
the newborns, yelping, careening
intoxicated by youth,
are scattered here and there.
The boy discovers a treasure,
his father’s cassette collection.
Old tape-recorder whines and squeaks.
Armstrong sings, “it’s a beautiful world…”
© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
who knows when....
where or why....
what 'how'....
happens
whyever however....
wherever whenever....
whosever 'whatever'....
triggers
the need
………………………………………................
tim hortons drive-through
(my offset cafe')
cassette tape dreams playing
...................................................
medium dark roast : l
three sugar : /
and one espresso shot please : I
thanks....have a nice day : )
stan sand