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Long Earth day Poems | Long Earth day Poetry

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Long Poems
Long poem by Sidney Beck | Details |

NOT JUST ANY SUNSET

NOT   JUST   ANY   SUNSET

This lunar sunset was what he’d most miss  -
They always said death was like this : 
Slo-mo and black-and-white
Like an old movie trite.
It had happened to him twice before : then
At rush hour on the G15 highway outside Shenzhen        (1)
In his new red car when he was twenty;
And again on the pad at Dongfeng  launch facility -       (2)
An accidental fire in the cabin and abort
When the oxygen supply fell short.

The sun had glared at him all day from the black night  
Familiar stars visible, coloured bright. 
He ran through his old lectures in his head
The cool ones - yellow  orange, red,   
The hot ones which stare  and emblazon,
As everything slips slowly down to the western horizon.
No loss of heat from sun, but shadows lengthening  now,
Black, black, lengthening inky shadow.  

His pen wrote fast across his paper notepad  deformed
But the inky marks now in Pudonghua  formed                 (3)
As his English slipped away.
He’d been here so long . . . . a month?  A day?
Day is 15 earth days,  night is 15 nights
And sunset  lasts a whole earth day bright


Moon was full, his earth was darkened, like night.
A blue watery ball with edges of light:
While the earth eclipsed the sun  
A red halo around his spinning home was spun.  
Sun’s entry on earth’s western limb made  slow 
Red flares - crowns -  as the solar disk slid low,
And earth’s red light bathed itself  on white rocks beside,
He felt a last touch of home inside.

So unlike his own sunsets of the past
In his home in Guangzhou, seen last                            (4)
Over the Pearl River delta with bent light                    (5)
At  the heavy monsoon rains’  height.
This taikonaut’s  last sunset . . . . . his radio dead,        (6)
His pen drops, and he slowly nods his head,
As sun’s warm arms envelope his earth fond,
And he slips his surly bonds.                                           (7)
…………………………………………………………………………………………
Notes
(1) A well-known dangerous highway in southern China
(2) Chinese equivalent to Kennedy Space Centre
(3) Pudonghua  (=Chinese) is the language spoken in southern China
(4) Major mega-city in southern China, near Hong Kong
(5) Pearl River is the river on which Guangzhou stands
(6) Astronaut = cosmonaut = taikonaut
(7) This line is closely modeled on a line in “HIGH FLIGHT”  by John  Magee

.......................................................................................

Entered   in  Nancy Jones's Contest  "LOSERS"


Long poem by keith baucum | Details |

GREEN Chapter Eleven

"First off Malik you could have picked some place other than
a strip club for us to met".  "Well Jade I figured this was the best 
spot.  People well be focused on the strippers and not us".  "Speaking
of strippers ours just walked in" Jade said cutting off Malik.  Sin,
Club Envy's most known stripper entered the room.  Wearing a
thin see through red veil and a long flowing red see through garment
trimmed in black.  The color red against her ebony skin looked erotic
and tasteful.  "Go ahead Jade and tell me the purpose of this meeting".
"Well Malik I've been thinking about our organizations" just as Jade was
talking the song Chocolate Bunnies started to play low in the background.
"I like how you and the Black Crime Syndicate members conduct yourselves.
I've been thinking that our organizations should merge and become one.  In
order to make this merger work you and I should merge".  Sin began 
to move her hips in a seductive motion.  Slowly removing the red see through 
garment.  "Jade you are a very powerful woman.  I love how your 
organization handle business.  How about we just form an alliance ".  Sin's
garments dropped to the floor revealing a dark red thong.  "Malik I
really like you we should merge" turning toward Malik Jade put her hand on
his leg.  "Malik we could run Green Haven".  Turning her back to the two of 
them Sin began to make her ass clap.  She moved her ass in a 
circular motion.  "Malik if our people see us in a relationship they will come 
together".  "Jade you are a beautiful woman but I don't date outside my 
ethnic group.  I just started dating someone".  "Who is she?  Is she a member 
of the Black Crime Syndicate?"  "No she isn't a criminal like us".  Bending 
over Sin began to shake her ass from side to side.  "Malik that relationship 
will never work".  "The Black Crime Syndicate is in a war Jade.  I don't know 
if you want to hang with us".  "A war, with who?"  "It's this organization called 
the Green Nation".  "Look like we have a common enemy.  Now it's even 
more important that we merge".  Standing back up and facing Malik and 
Jade.  Sin removes the thin red veil covering her face.  "They killed 
one of our members and left a note.  It said the Jade Dragons should stop 
bringing heroin in Green Haven.  That Green Haven is their city".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The Brown Philosopher aka 
The Green Poet aka Red Seven


Long poem by madhavi suyog pagare | Details |

An Ellice Island - In search of KindRed Soul

Long miles of tedious journey,
Missing my darling honey.
Travelling impatiently, spend thousands of 
money, 
Hope god will bless me with ma lucky soul 
at this season.

Equatorial island exploring its amazed 
beauty, glittering with immersed grasses.
Wrapped by queens necklaced small lake 
aside, at the outskirts of dalhousie.
My heart dwelled into its god gifted 
creativity,
When the night lime lighted,
Millions of stars scattered around 
charming moon.
As if its was a wondering boon.
Lucky enough for landing with my next 
hop.

Eagerly waiting for my heart chaser,
Girl passed near by, few seconds later.
Flaming beauty mould my soul.
Topped with innocence, ready for my 
auspicious goal.
Her chic appearance,
Her innocent appeal.
Strucking heart raised with high beats..
Awaited for our romantic date in ma 
upcoming meet.

Frequency of our nature matched.
Stolen Eyes of each other were catched.
Strings of our heart whistled 
synchronously.
Everything had happened miraclelously.
I rebelled the three precious words of 
romantic dictionary.
Accepting my red rose, She blushed.

At event of recreation, campfire were 
ignited.
Nobody around us, private moments 
between we two spotlighted.
Playing guitar, she sinked with every beat,
That's the coincidence our eyes again 
meet.
Hand in hand danced with the soothing 
romantic theme,
Sparkling smile on her face beamed.
Getting closer to her, because of her 
fragranced cream.
Expecting the light around us to be dim.

The romantic moment again came,
Flaps of my soul opened for the grand 
dame.
She looked too pretty in her gold lame 
dress, 
My heart awarded her an order of chivalry.
Don't know who are you, but baby you are 
the one, I am in love.
You live in me, You are my love
I feel you in my heart,
You are my world, I just cant stay apart!

Please don't hesitate, please don't lie,
Whatever you feel, my heart can buy!
Angel of life, Its just you.
Completeness in life can't be without you.

Wanna Carry journey happily together.
Tickling nose, Queenly beauty of my white 
leather.
Hold my senses, its caught by you.
Don't let be just memories, wanna feel 
ecstasy of love towards you forever.
Promising to hold your hand throughout 
life in this lovely weather.

Will be your shadow, because your pain 
will be mine.
Its destiny that our heart clicked a 
snapshot of each other's soul.
Stopping by my question, Will you marry 
me, my Kindred Soul?


Long poem by Andrew Crisci | Details |

MY CHARMING CAMPANIAN TOWN

Baiano is my charming Campanian town,
at the foot of the Paterno's mountain,
noble roman settlers came to build their villas,
but the barbarians and Spartacus ransacked it;
then other invaders: the Normans, the Hungarians,
the Swedish and Spaniards occupied it!

Baiano is an ancient town, not as widely famous
as many northern towns, but  keeps up with the modern times;
come here in springtime, and see the season's enchantment:
sunflowers and lilies fields spread out in the misty distance...
as the orange and apple trees dress in green and wait
for the magical summer for that palatable fragrance! 

In the soccer fields, kids play in the hot afternoons
while their parents watch them from colorful shades;
the elders sit in their comfortable plastic chairs,
napping under the shade of a casual oak tree,so tall,
planted by a student on Earth Day many summers ago...
and he proudly stands by it counting its living years!

O adorable town, left by me, for social reasons when
I was forced to flee and leave this youth undone,
with friends I hung out in the church's yard...
to kick that ball in the net, and become elated;
could I have gotten all that energy from the southern sun,
which has nothing to envy the colder northern one!

From the wide steps of the Gothic church with a sturdy door, 
I raised those childish eyes and gazed at the beautiful facade,
and wondered what inspired the architect
to build such an immortal monument 
so heavily damaged by the last earthquake,
but the Baianese people brought it to its previous splendor!

In my charming Campanian town without a stream,
there is a large square with oak trees on both sides,
and right in the middle the Fallen Soldiers' monument...
for the brave ones who went up north to fight the invaders;
and the blood they shed was for my freedom,
and these verses will be read by everyone in the land!

Neighbors and friends you have gotten older or passed away,
and all of you who are alive:  lament with me its by-gone glory!

Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci


Long poem by M. L. Kiser | Details |

The After Effects

Swelling waters rage across the land; 
two foot, three, four…water-tantrum’s take their toll; 
capturing houses and cars.
The collection grows with every storm.
Tempests wage their war on unsuspecting trees and crops;
limbs whirl about the airways. frantically.

Four legged’s seek the higher ground for, safety’s sake; 
hurricane is a non-discriminatory beats; 
attacking everyone and everything in its path.
Whirling, swirling wind-tops, cut through land, neighborhoods, cities and forests; 
flinging debris like a child throwing a temper-tantrum.  
A spoiled brat in a rage.

Land will renew with time, cities will be re-built and birds will populate woods, 
forests and parks once again; provided that, 
hurricane tantrum does not repeat itself, too soon.
Nature’s children can be fussy and destructive to, 
people who upset the natural balance of things.
Everything that exists has a purpose; 
from the cockroach to the human.  
When each does it’s part, a balance is achieved.

Kill the rats off and the pests that feed off of them;
infect dogs, cats, livestock and even homes.
Frack-crack the earth’s crust-to-the-core and 
tectonic plates slide too far; 
carcinogens flood water and wetlands;
killing off billions of lives.  
Man, mammal, bird and fish…all gone.

Obliterate the trees and you obliterate oxygen; 
obliterate oxygen and you…extinguish all life.
The human beast has, an uncanny ability to do as,
they please; never considering the consequences of,
their actions.

It’s so easy to blame nature’s other children for,
human carelessness and mistakes;
Preaching about responsibility while avoiding it.


Long poem by Isa Jennings | Details |

Earth Day

Earth Day
A mighty soul squeezes into a body.
For the first time or the 10,000st – no matter – 
It’s humbling, so   h u m a n.
Learning to use this magnificent vessel, we know nothing.
What is this thing: “Language”?
We crap our pants.
We forgot almost everything and keep forgetting the rest.
Everything NEW seems REAL.
It will take much work or the Grace of God to perceive the truth again,
Amidst all this fascinating stuff.

Feelings – a packaged deal with the body.
(Much like the Monsanto protection clause in the bill to save the country from bankruptcy)
We are addicted to them (the feelings and Monsanto)
Yet too scared to allow the full range of what is labeled “good” to “bad”.
We spend most of our lives frantically avoiding anything that feels uncomfortable.
Don’t you see: it gives that particular feeling more reality than it deserves!

On the way home listening to the drum and a deeply melodic, sensuous voice,
The old woman in a willowy, wrinkly, white body (www.com) rocks out.
The music is intoxicating.
The older she gets, the more human she becomes.
Youth’s nature is to be perfect.
But after almost 60 years of living, she begins to own and honor the imperfection.
Everything is there. Love, compassion and kindness, 
As well as judgment, self-centeredness and even cruelty.

The Earth is completing another turn around itself,
Whirling around a star as they are being hurled farther “into” or “out of” the Universe?
The color is fading out of the landscape.
Sucked into the sky as blues, purples, reds and gold.
Only to be reborn tomorrow in the luminescent light of the dawn.


Long poem by Dah Lusion | Details |

Gardener

This poem was first published in ‘Stone Voices Magazine’
—a publication that truly emphasizes spiritual realization.
It appeared in the Fall 2013 issue.


“Gardener”

My hands are the hands
of a gardener,
fresh with soil, sunlight, and rain,
with the breath of flowers
and kisses of moisture.
I sprinkle seeds over the earth,
like a holy man sprinkles sacred water.
The soil: grateful for my blessing.
The birds: grateful for this small fare.
I chant incantations and listen
for the growth of roots,
for the rustling of sprouts,
pastel green and tender, spiritual
and uplifting.
I rain dance and praise the sky,
hold my hands to the air,
forming a small bowl
for the rain to fill,
to be the stimulus, the birthmother,
the liquid that makes
the garden whole.
I ask the sun for waves
of light, the breeze
for strength and circulation,
the fertilizer for sparkling minerals
that infuse the roots, stems, and fruit
with vitality.
On my knees I dig
with bare hands into the soil:
my hands, like intimate dancers,
lead the busy prolific weeds
to another existence, to their rebirth.
My hands are the hands
of a gardener,
fresh with soil, sunlight, and rain.

——————————————————————
From my fourth full-length collection of poems

©dah / dahlusion 2013
all rights reserved

My gratitude goes to publisher, Christine Cote
for bringing my work into her spiritual realm,
and for sharing with her readers one of my poems.


Long poem by M. L. Kiser | Details |

WHAT'S IT GONNA MATTER AFTER

WHAT'S IT GONNA MATTER AFTER?

What's it gonna matter
When…
a child looks to the heavens
and asks
what a star is...

when…
water mammals lie beached…
bodies acid-emblazoned lumps
on bleached sands...

when…
burnt-leaved
fields stare back
at tired farmers who seeded them...

when…
pop-eyed children
plea for the mercy
of a death too slow in coming...

when…
the last humans
burrow molelike
beneath the earth's sun-bleached surface
escaping death rays jettisoned
from the fire-ball their
ancestors
once worshipped as a god...

when…
bones now ashes lie
on stretches of hot,
white dirt…
like little
mile-markers to hell...

When…
the last survivor;
a lone cockroach;
sparks, crackles and fizzles… 
into a pile of ashes
no wind will ever scatter...

What's it gonna matter
What…
religion,
sex
or color
a human is...
there aren't any.

What's it gonna matter
What…
money is,
vinyl siding is
what…
a CD player or a VCR is...

What's it gonna matter
That… 
the market was a bull three years in a row
that…
polyfoam is cheaper than paper
that…
tuna sells better
than salmon.

That…
the first man on the moon
was an American...

that…
the first house on the moon
was built there by the Japanese
in 2025...

What's it gonna matter
When…
there's nothing
but a stretch
of searing,
sun-bleached dirt
lying lifeless 
on a brown dwarf
once called Planet Earth...



Long poem by David Tanderup | Details |

When a god dies

Up in the clouds the king sits with no one around. His eyes roam to a fro walking the earth day 
and night yet with all his might he does not fathom the joy and happiness of these ants in his 
sight. Their life is short just days in his sight, but still they dream, love, fight, and die. Searching 
for a reason he left his throne. He walked among them and saw them as man; they walked 
upright, used reason and logic as he did. He came to a village a little girl cried I am so hungry, 
my father has died. The great king fed this family of three, but still they knew not the god-king 
he be. When they had ate the girl gave him a hug, the mother cried and bid him good-bye with 
love. This love was a thing he had never felt before, now he understood why they carried out 
their wars. The passion and pride that burns inside: a reason to believe, to fight, and to die. The 
deity returned high to his throne, having felt wanted he now felt alone; immortality looms large, 
it is too much to bear he needed a reason to live for, a purpose to care. The vastness of forever 
ahead no one to love nothing to live for the god-king dies. From his death there is a lesson to 
learn from his life, it is not how long you live but what you live for. Until you have something 
worth dying for you’re not really living


Long poem by Marie Harrison | Details |

Speechless

SPEECHLESS
 
I shutter in awe of her divine shapely figure, 
viewing the bounty of her striking beauty.
 
I feel so small when I take in her
heavenly visions with my wandering eyes.
As I gaze at her bulging mountain peaks 
and her hollow caverns,
Mother Earth's fertility 
renders me speechless.
 
What a gracious lady she's been to me,
sharing her tranquil pools of clear water 
and her alluring water falls 
any time that I wish to use them.
 
How generous she is to 
the mass fleets of towering 
vessels that set sail daily, 
across her vast and mighty blue oceans, 
that pound against her jagged, 
rocky coastlines.
 
We search endlessly
through out the super novas 
to other limitless galaxies, 
that are trillions of light years away.
Yet no other planet hardly compares,
to our nobel  and fair beauty queen,
Mother Earth.
 
Let us begin to embrace and cherish,
how lucky we are to spend
our days with such a unique gem.
 
An oddity in all reallms,
she hangs around in our Milky Way.
She's truly one of a kind,
a lady that's impossible to find 
anywhere else in this universe.
 
She should leave us all
speechless...every day that we get to live 
in the ample bosom of this rare beauty.
 
 
 I wrote this for Earth Day.  It was a calender write.


Long Poems