Long 97 Poems
Long 97 Poems. Below are the most popular long 97 by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 97 poems by poem length and keyword.
Water moves continually Over land, evaporation and transpiration
common chemical substance
essential to all forms of life
the substance has a solid state, ice,
and a gaseous state, water vapor.
About 1,460 teratonnes (Tt) of water covers 71% of the Earth's surface,
in oceans and other large water bodies,
with 1.6% of water below ground in aquifers
and 0.001% in the air as vapor,
clouds (formed of solid and liquid water particles suspended in air),
and precipitation.
Can cause hurricanes when global warming extends
entire villages left submerged as in people's streets
submeerged.
Earth's water is contained
within man-made and natural objects
near the Earth's surface as water towers,
animal and plant bodies, manufactured products, and food stores.
Water moves continually
Saltwater oceans hold ing 97% of surface water,
glaciers and polar ice caps 2.4%,
and other land surface water such as rivers and lakes 0.6%.
Water moves continually
Water moves continually through a cycle of evaporation or transpiration,
precipitation, and runoff, reaching the sea.
Water moves continually over land
Winds carry water vapor over land
at the same rate as runoff into the sea,
about 36 Tt per year.
Over land, evaporation and transpiration
contribute another 71 Tt per year to the precipitation
of 107 Tt per year over land.
Some water is trapped
for varying periods in ice caps, glaciers, aquifers, or in lakes,
providing fresh water for life on land.
Clean, fresh water is essential to human and other life.
In many parts of the world, it is in short supply.
Many organic molecules as well as salts, sugars,
acids, alkalis, and some gases (especially oxygen), are soluble in water.
Water is essential for all life on Earth.
Humans can survive for several weeks without food,
but for only a few days without water.
more than one billion people
in low and middle-income countries
lack access to safe water for drinking,
personal hygiene and domestic use.
more than 20 percent of the world’s people.
close to 2 billion people
did not have access to adequate sanitation facilities.
leading causes of morbidity
and mortality in low- and middle-income countries, frequently called developing
countries.
over 1.1 billion people are currently without safe drinking water.
Setting: a cafe, chamonix, in hand a tea.
Across- a woman, seated, not seeing me.
Embarrassed I am,
that I, a questionable I,
like a lamb: 97 and 1 kilogram,
am engulfed by her,
like Noah by heavanly mer.
Can I help it?- No!
That this Helen
this doe
or maybe Annabel of Poe
has transfixed me so
No!
For she, unbeknowest to anyone but me,
has -- like a jockey to horse--
narrowed my vision, my every decision.
My goals, my independent roles,
are all now but foes
Dürers'crows
to that of this woman,
to that of this Syren;
A homeric vision calling my name,
my thoughts [set completely in frame].
For she is Femme French,
whose lip, whose tongue, whose
unequaled gaze,
melts hearts, muffles minds, and
spirits sets a daze;
She is a picture Romaine-
a poetic refrain-
a Cloud Loraine-
Tout l'univers(se), turning perverse-
all those once sane.
And when you, pardon- she
speaks; «please, more tea»
she, unknowingly, speaks to me,
wow, she trully speaks to me.
Votre langue francais,
what can I say.
We in the west, at our best
butcher and hack at our speach,
yet you- lyrically spue- a harmonious
coo,
a ventricular breech....
Our « (c)(h)(o)(c)(o)(l)(a)(t)(e), »
americanized, anglasized,
Is not as sweet as your---
« chocolat »--- taste that
mmmm-hmmm
tis better, the way you pronounce every letter
as in decrouver, or illuminer.
To think, that this, your verbal kiss,
turns me so amiss.
But lets ((focus))- back to the Now,
sitting in chair, starring at her hair-
tied back, pulled back, let's get abstract:
lips parted, bangs parted.
Her cheeks lifted- my heart uplifted.
Facial confusion!
Her eyes whisper, « mister, »
maybe sinister?
Who knows, maybeee... the nose!
Striking a pose-
Running, twitching, creating true woes-
in a heart that weeps, reeps, but rarely sows.
Now you can see what she does to me.
my mind is adrift, but who cares- What a Gift!
To be lost in her presence- a humble
peasant- in the present is a present.
So- I'm sitting in a chair,
staring, glaring, intimately at her,
seeking, searching, for our eyes to
meet, to greet, in lustful heat,
for her to return my gaze
and to be lost in that haze till the
end of my days....
But wait.... What is this.
Something is amiss.
A realization, a *****?
OH GOD....
I have a *****...
****. I'm just another creepy loner.
Form:
HANDMAIDEN OF MOON DANCING
fly me to stars in the thrill of one swan night
over a crescent arc to feel a flame of sighs,
teasing dreams so silent yet ever wild
and like a neon light, speak through your feet ,
your ribs twirling in drips of summer’s rage : throw
away the restraint of confined movements
dictated by a body unmoved; of a flower
keeping her flutters from crawling freely on grass
give me a sway through leaps unto ocean’s swell
without need for thought or reason, rather,
lift the flesh made from love or hate, to burst
with primitive heat; fingers liquid in motion unbidden
by a sacred place that doesn’t exist on earth, when
all but the fragrance of a naked skin expresses
the very force that writhes in the faint of depth,
licking the cells inside out.. weightless, bold, soft
dance the crazy dance with me just because
such passion needs to flow along rhythms
burning within… till a weave of spin breaks
into a trance blending a wanton glide with
pirouetting flights raw in some meadow clearing,
pious pose under the tangerine of touch…
handmaiden of moonlight dancing on flames
pluck those eyes ,rise above mortal remains.
©
*i tweaked this free verse with a sonnet’s volta
in the last two lines (10 syl rhyme count instead
of the usual 8 syl pattern)
----------
*Martha Graham is the pioneer of modern dance. As a ballet dancer
and choreographer, she introduced inner movement emphasizing
emotion, spontaneity, and an exploration of psycho-social themes
( feminism, political protest, and labor unrest)through free -flow
of innovative steps, thwarting cultural control over conventional,
metered dance. Her last performance on-stage was in 1970,
at the age of 76; she was working on the choreography for the Olympics
when she died in 1991 at the age of 97.
Graham was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom in 1976
by President Gerald Ford and cited by Time Magazine as
"Dancer of the Century" in 1988, aside from her other accolades.
*Source: Wikipedia.com and www.voanews.com
*Please watch
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OUoMc5Am_c0&feature=related
‘ ‘’’’’ ‘’’’
For Cyndi Mac Millan’s Maverick by nette onclaud
June 9 Relationship to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 92-97
Key Verse – Psalm 92:1 It is a good thing to give thanks unto the LORD, and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High.
LORD GOD, YOU ARE MY THANKSGIVING POWER
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
immersing me into Your holiness-reigning
Thank You for Your uprightness that props me by Your strengthening
Yes, making me overcomer against sinning---
You please establish my faith with Your divine refining.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
exhorting me as I desire to be holy at all times
Thank You for Your triumph that makes me a victor with Your blest times
Yes, allowing me to combat discontentment during carnal times---
You please pardon my iniquities; so grateful am I many times.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
dealing with me lovingly as Your steward
Thank You for Your heritage that speaks of heavenly and high regard
Yes, assuring me precious reward and divine award---
You please drive my zeal to serve You, actively forward.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
enabling me to dwell in Your truth’s certainty
Thank You for Your blessings that uphold me despite adversity
Yes, prospering me in serving You with sincerity---
You please lead my steps as I follow Your guiding sovereignty.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
bringing me into Your presence
Thank You for Your greatness that ushers me toward worship’s effervescence
Yes, comforting me in grief’s silence---
You please protect my heart from temptation’s license.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
letting me rejoice in Your powerful might
Thank You for Your compassion that brightens me around Your light
Yes, correcting me by Your righteousness-delight---
You please ignite my revival for service height.
Lord God, You are my thanksgiving Power,
allowing me to feast in Your goodness
Thank You for Your enlightenment that radiates Your graciousness
Yes, preserving me with Your lovingkindness---
You please keep my spirit in Your will’s constant joyfulness.
Serge Lyrewing 417
Sharon K Gulley 174
Shihabudheen Kumbidi 424
Shiraz Iqbal 88
Shirley Ann Hawkins 123, 190
Shirley R Rebstock 102, 181
Simon Laurie king 312, 314, 393
Simon Rogerson 287
Sneha RV 146
Sophia William 464
Sophie Georgia Pilkington 123
Stephanie Falotico 97
Stephen Mayne 386
Stephen Michael Tefft 318
Stephen Watson 402
Subash Khanal 434
Subimal Sinha-Roy 14
Subrahmanyan Radhakrishna 192
Supraja Kannan 279
Susan M. Ashley 25, 42, 56
Suzanne Delaney 112, 132, 172
Suzanne Jones 443, 445
Swagata Lakshmi Das 365
T. Wignesan 413
Tania Kitchin 126, 59, 78
Terence O'Leary 101, 18, 72
Teresa Lindsay 414
Thomas Cunningham 72
~Many thanks to you selected poets; Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers Of sharing your whispers from God, tho you didn’t know it; Each letters and each word; Reads so very dear and well; Joys of your souls cheers; Covenants of choice, reading your voice; Blessing peace be still; Please keep writing your skills; Rhyming verses blessings of course it’s… P.S. Congrats and thank-U my fellow Soupers~
Write On!
P S its POETRY WRITE ON WRITE ON CONGRATS TO MY FELLOW POETRY SOUPERS PART 17
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
https://s-media-cache- ak0.pinimg.com/236x/72/97/79/7297796a1920d9e3fb4a59ff6da498ab.jpg
Pin 4198: Disney Gallery - Alice in Wonderland Series (Baby Oyster)
Variations on The Walrus and the Carpenter" a narrative poem by Lewis Carroll that appeared in his book Through the Looking-Glass, published in December 1871.
OYSTERS
The tide was low the sun was high
The beach was long and very dry
The moon had argued it wanted to stay
But try as it might, could not get its way
The beach was dry and very long
Two figures came walking along
They wept as they went and quietly spoke
Of cockle shell boats rowed by gentle folk
With the sun high and tide so low
They could see where the oysters grow
The Walrus exclaimed I have a strong hunch
That we have found a delicacy for lunch
The beach was long and very dry
Dining under the open sky
The carpenter scraped butter on his bread
While saying those oysters looked over fed
The tide was low the sun was high
Hear me oysters he did descry
Come and join our party under the Sun
Where you will have lots of wonderful fun
The beach was dry and very long
The oysters came singing a song
La da dee we are happy as can be
We will party then go back to the sea
With the sun high and the tide so low
One oyster cried please do not go
But the other oysters were more sanguine
For the carpenter offered them some wine
The beach was long and very dry
There seemed to be nothing awry
The oysters sat and listened to tall tales
Of dragons and knights and ships in full sail
The tide was low the sun was high
Alas the oysters end was nigh
The Walrus said oysters do not decline
The carpenter and I shall start to dine
The beach was dry and very long
No more was sung the happy song
The walrus looked at the gentle sea swell
The carpenter held the last empty shell
Dedicated to my friends Mikki & The Queen of Ghali
Makers of the most wonderful magic
~Completed 22/04/2015~
It’s weird…we are two peas in a pod…
I downloaded you like a Sims’ mod
Because you got me hooked on your looks…
You are as fascinating as a billion books…
You accept me, you don’t reject me…you are my constructive building blocks
I crawl on you like a weird-looking insect – I am curious of your peace and wraths
Or a mole on your skin, but I’d rather not see…your facial expression aftershocks
I dunno…we are independent, but I feel like…we cross paths…
My past girlfriend followed me on instagram…
And on Facebook…
And on Twitter…
And on other social media websites…
I barely got into social media when I was 30 years of age…
And I’m on many, many rampages…
Alzheimers, man, they have a way to trigger you
Into insanity…
Into a lane of vanity
To go up and down walls
Unknown to me at all
All y’all didn’t answer their calls
Don’t fall, don’t trip, stand tall
I was on snapchat when I was 47 years of age…
I have been diagnosed with schizophrenia and bipolar when I got hospitalized at age 13…
I am hard-working, but at the same time, there is nothing wrong with me…
I am pretty good for my age – I’m 97, going on 98…
I was a responsible adult, paying bills…nothing in the world is free
Nothing in this wretched world is free
Nothing in this crazy, physcho world is free
Nothing in this ever-whirling world is free
But, baby, always remember…
You were born in the month of December
Ooooh, now I didn’t lose my train of thot
Don’t I look hot? Oh wait, no hate, I lovin’ it…
I made progress and it’s exhilaratin’ and logically legit…
I may be materiasitic,
But at least I’m being realistic
I was born and raised rich
I ain’t no game glitch…
But, what goes around comes back around…
I am found, though my body, with gravity (which ain’t helping), has been bound…
Where’s my wheelchair?
Does anyone even care?
I am lying here in despair…
Help me, save me, everyone stares here
I am afraid; yet, I have no fear…
For God is here and there…
My dream was such that I just didn’t want to be awake
When an unexpected change in tone caused my good mood to break
As my Buena Vista faded ‘neath a penetrating sound
And forced my sleepy high to plummet swiftly to the ground
Jolted violently awake from necessary beauty sleep
The most annoying, intermittent, ear-piercing beep
It was not the smoke detector that had opened my eyes wide
But the other one – that warned of leaking carbon monoxide
Still somewhat groggy, my self-preservation mode kicked in
And I woke my wife, who’d managed to sleep right through the whole din
In haste, we grabbed two dressing gowns – I donned hers, she took mine
And stumbling down the stairs, convinced her everything was fine
Now reeling from the shrill, we made our way to the front door
Still trying to explain why we were up at half past four
The dog was barking wildly, running rings around our feet
As we sat in our odd nightwear in the middle of the street
The pre-dawn chill was biting at my unprotected ears
But as clarity returned I knew that I must face my fears
And pulling my pink dressing gown tightly around my waist
I threw my shoulders back and bravely climbed the stairs in haste
I pulled the shrieking beast from its position on the wall
Trying hard to see the readout, but the numbers were so small
What does ‘97’ mean – and is this reading far too high?
Is it well within the limits or are we about to die?
My concentration shattered, headache pounding and cross-dressed
I held my breath and pulled the batteries from its beating breast
No time to find the handbook, but I needed now to know
Just what the reading meant and could we stay or should we go?
So I turned instead to Google, but the image that I found
Resembled mine; though in this picture it was wrong way round
As dawn arose, daylight revealed the cause of my ‘mix up’
That ‘Lb’ means ‘low battery’ when read the right way up ...
Haikus by René Etiemble, with commentaries, Translated by T. Wignesan
(Taken from Etiemble’s only collection of poems (out of thousands which he burned in a fit of rage against the university in 1983): le Coeur et la cendre: soixante ans de poésie (the heart and the ash: sixty years of poetry). Paris: Les deux animaux, 1984, 158p. He had also published a critical work on the haiku.)
1. Epigraph strictly intended “for the heart and the ash”:
For fear of dying
of leaving dear ones behind
he did die of fear
(As the above seventeen syllables, which forced themselves upon me in October 1983, do not contain any latent kigo nor patent kiregi, I can hardly claim they make for a (proper) haiku. Let’s simply pretend that they are made up of seventeen obsessive syllables. Page 15.) Pages 92-97:
2. Haikus for Konrad CZYNSKI, Columbia University in the City of New York:
Millions of diamonds:
sun shines on this freezing rain.
Thousands of dead trees.
“The length of the haiku which does not permit itself to be laid out with blank spaces within its three metrical units, (yet) here in France and elsewhere is presented as a tercet; I insist on preserving its original form and thus have let it run over two pages (in one line).” P. 94.
3. Not a cloud in sky.
pond pitter patters: downpour?
burnt grass scent fills air.
4. May winter be late
on these white flakes of April!
Petals of flowers.
5.
(a) Milling sea anemones
carnivorous under sea:
my field frozen under.
(b) Milling sea anemones
carnivorous under sea:
field of frozen white.
(c ) Milling sea anemones
carnivorous sea flowers:
my field frozen under.
(Etiemble says even Basho didn’t always respect the 17-syllable count. And adds: “Basho may never be able to say that in this page he didn’t recognise and approve (at least) ONE haiku!” Page 96-97.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Hello human this is the voice you hear most often when you are stressed. Sometimes you hear me when things are going all wrong for you and I have to chip in and make it worse. Hell, when things are going good for you I have to make myself known to turn it something to make you miss trust it. I have been with you for over a decade now and well it seems that I have made a real home in your head for myself. I’m the thing that cause your heart race for no reason to where you have chest pains. But you have to admit it though I have caused you less damage than the other humans you claimed to be your friends. I also have protected you from your own self when it came to the weirdos from that thing you people called the internet. I’m not all bad human and yeah, I have teamed up with one of your characters time to time. How else am I to know to make you stress out it’s not like you came with an info book or anything. Even now you are probably stressed out not knowing when I’ll creep up on you to drag you down to a lower level then the sewer. Remember the time I put you in the dark place for the better part of a year? Those were some of the best days we had together human. Had you go from a healthy 110 pounds to 97 pounds and no sleep. Why can’t we go back to those days' human? I also have made you do some stuff that you wouldn’t do like thinking you don’t deserve anything. Just think of all the times I made you feel unworthy of your writing talents because of your learning flaws. How masterful was that of me to implanting that in your head. I have also had help from my buddy that well truth be told started the work for me before I even showed up. So, it’s not all my fault in how you are. Most of the time you bring it on yourself human with all yourself doubt.
I believe you and I are going to be together for a very long time human.
Until the next mental break down. Your forever friend,
Anxiety