Long Abroad Poems
Long Abroad Poems. Below are the most popular long Abroad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Abroad poems by poem length and keyword.
Of all the great vacations I've been on-
the ones abroad and those on land and sea,
the place to which my thoughts are always drawn,
'North to Alaska' was the best for me.
On Princess Cruise, we left Vancouver port
to Ketchikan, Juneau, and Glacier Bay.
The towns were quaint and earned a good report,
but Glacier Bay - what a majestic day!
The cove was filled with glaciers, large and small,
that glistened in the sunbeams wondrously.
I felt I was in heaven, so enthralled,
by water, ice, and sky surrounding me.
Then all at once, a roar, loud as can be -
a feat called 'calving' suddenly began;
large chunks of glacier ice right then broke free,
cascaded down along a deep, wide span.
The ocean rose with waves, and I could feel
the splash of water sparkling in the air.
This sight of glacier splitting was surreal;
an act of nature shown beyond compare.
The blue and aqua colors in the ice
along with sky and sea reflecting gleam;
held captive by this beauty so enticed
me to remember this Alaskan dream.
February 7, 2016
~3rd Place~
Contest:
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/13/2020
~3rd Place~
Visited: Alaska Glacier Bay
Sponsor: Lin Lane
Judged: 02/20/2016
'North To Alaska' is Alaska's Motto
MILL WHEEL
The mill wheel wouldn’t turn till the Spring
‘CLOSED’ notice hanging at closed door on a string.
Snowfall on pavement, snowfall on road turning hard ice.
Customers remembered miller as he was friendly and nice.
Winter was frosty with chilled windy breeze.
Off and on snow drizzling, sometimes to cease.
Sudden disappearance of the miller made all stunned.
Neither any information received, nor the miller returned.
Whisper ran through the town from door to door,
as police came on inquiry: How to ignore?
They came on verification of passport renewal.
Splendid surprise awaiting on miller’s arrival.
Miller is going abroad on honeymoon trip with new bride.
Passport-issue is solved, and everybody gets relieved.
Season changes to Spring naturally, no freaks.
Ice melts, revealing secrets, wheel creaks.
07/19/18
' One, nine, sixteen v3.0' Contest by Viv Wigley
'Tis once again that glorious season with its gentle showers,
Blossoming trees, emerald lawns and a myriad of showy flowers!
But with Spring also comes a most unwelcome scourge.
Alas, hosts of pesky dandelions upon my lawn emerge!
From nearby lawns, subtle zephyrs deposited fluffy spawn,
Later to spring forth in yellow array upon my pristine lawn!
I've sprayed, prayed and taken the Lord's name in vain.
Those odius "dents de lion" certainly are my bane!
I'm told dandelions have some redeeming qualities,
And are considered by some to be delectable delicacies,
Feasting upon this vexing nemesis, blooms, roots and all!
I 'fess up! My mission is their propagation to forestall!
With those yellow blooms abroad upon my lawn so rife,
I reckon I just don't appreciate the finer things in life,
Like dandelion fritters, dandelion wine or dandelion greens.
Thanks all the same - I prefer meat, taters and butter beans!
Those little pests upon my lawn would be a lot less dense,
If only the neighbors would keep 'em on their side of the fence!
Let other folks cultivate and consume their dandelion crop;
But for me, I'll just continue to cuss, spray, shovel and chop!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
DEVOID OF INSPIRATION
Now running through phase of no inspiration,
Yet holding high spirited heart,
and owning placid potential power.
Feeling dynamism even in still static stagnant state.
Though:
Activities are shrunk
Desires are drunk
Achievements turned junk.
Spending indolent idle colorless days.
No turbulence.
Precious time rolling in monotonous tone.
Only excitement left in interaction
with sweet little granddaughter
staying abroad meeting me on skype
once a week,
but bestowing best boost and bringing bliss
to a lone life.
I overcome full fatigue and weakness
becoming refreshed attaining vigor.
I welcome next week.
10/ 05/ 20
Third Place
'When There Is No Inspiration' Contest by Silent One
First Place
' A Brian Strand Your Choice'
Contest by Brian Strand
In the antique store
an old physician’s desk,
walnut and marble-topped,
holding the remnants of a life
of service;
stories etched in
wood, metal and stone.
Next to part of an old syringe,
a can of ether, half full;
it’s lid rusted shut
and a stethoscope
sporting the cracked rubber
tubing, of a bygone era.
A clock that once worked,
a necessity for any physician
or scientist;
it died at lunchtime.
A gilt-framed memoir
of time served abroad.
Life stories abound in old
antique shops;
shh...you can almost hear them
whispered tales,
ethereal remnants,
for the purchase.
2-12-2020
Enter the 'STRAND SELECT M,any form ,any theme' Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
I don't lament
Rather I feel pleased
Learning from one new things
While leaving the task I know well
Brain once occupied by theories, question and researches
Converted into beautiful way of cleaning
Natures and environment
Welcoming every season with calm and compuser
I now get idea which month trees loose leaves and branches in UK
AC to Adlerian psychology
We are responsible for our life
So I think I choose this work myself
Sometimes ranting and raving emotion flows
I quivered myself inside duvet
My heart says don't lament as this job contains best payment
Taking the trolley from east to west
Cleaning heart of king cross
Granary square is the best
With lots of fountain and children park
Well by career shifting it feels pain
But this changes welcome
whole ways of viewing things
I am grateful to god what I get
July
July saw the end of school, the kids were winding down,
We spent our holidays abroad, plenty of drinks gratis I did down.
We had some time on the beach, in the warm golden sand,
Making the most of family time before heading home we had to land.
August
August was the peak for us, with barbecues in the sun,
Water pistols in the garden, children laughing as they run.
The footy season back, new replica shirts are all around,
I was so excited for my first match this season at the ground.
September
September saw the schools return, and normal service did resume,
shorter nights started to creep in, it was the beginning of the gloom.
September saw the seeds and leaves of Autumn start to fall,
Kids trying to knock the conkers down, into the tree they threw their ball.
October
October saw the dark nights return just in time for Halloween,
Where streets were filled with zombies and witches and ghosts who loved to scream.
On Halloween we carved the pumpkins and then it was trick or treat,
knocking on neighbour doors and collecting sweets – as many as we could eat.
November
November saw bonfire night – a penny for the guy,
Fireworks at the plenty, we saw those rockets fly.
The sky lit up with as many colours as you can get,
It’s not for everyone though and we had to reassure our pet.
December
December brought us Christmas, a time for every woman, child and man,
As for Santa, we saw him in every shop, mall, street or place, and he also drove an Amazon van.
Christmas Day arrived, presents opened from underneath the tree,
And nobody was happier than the kids playing with their toys for all to see.
I hope next year will be good for you and yours, and also that of me and mine,
Wishing you all the very best, I’m off to have some wine.
With a feathery smile on her chiseled face
she looks as angelic as the real ones in the sky
adorning my window ledge she fills up every space,
like any proper angel would normally do;
I hear her whisper at the edge of night
secrets that were meant for me alone
She quietly supports my every prayer
this little angel of God, who never goes abroad ;
She is a stationary idol of the highest order
she comforts me each night with her presence and grace
and although she cannot see my face,
she knows every hidden feeling I encase,
every hope, every desire, every fear that I misplace.
I, a weather beaten traveler of life's weary journey
gives ode to this lovely altar Angel, she is a reminder
that Angels do exist, she may be made of plastic but to me,
she is a living, breathing, object of great valor
when I pray.
Feb 27, 2023
Sponsor Jeff Kyser
Contest Name Write an Ode |
HUMMING HYMNS OF SORROW
(A SOULFUL SABLE SONNET)
A treacherous trod has been this rough rugged road;
The way over which we’ve come has not been kind.
Our hopes and spirits have been tested and so has every mind;
Oh but we've never buckled under the burden of the heavy load.
Over the weary way with blood and tears, we strode;
Guided by an audacious faith and a spirit holy and sublime,
We survived the trials, tribulations and the uncertainties of the time;
Till at last, the home of the brave and the land of the free was our abode.
But now our children are being profiled and shot down in the street,
While their fathers fight wars abroad for other children’s justice and liberty;
And our grandmothers sit in their rocking chairs humming hymns of sorrow.
Today another mother will stand over a dead child and wearily weep;
For when all is said and done, the child died dreadfully due to his own criminality:
How long will our communities be likened to cells of prisoners living on death's row?
My friends, it is a dismal thing
At such an hour to pound and ring!
Let others shiver if they must,
I shall not greet a sky of rust!
Let first the air be half so warm
As in this covered nest I form.
And then, perhaps, if need of it,
I’ll lift an eye, and half-way sit.
Forever slept, thou fiendish, foul-formed fool!
Forever fallen gods raise mortals cruel!
Forever shalt thou freeze within thy bed!
Forever warmth from I and Earth is fled!
Forever field and forest shall be dead!
A glass of wine, my dear. A bottle, nay!
More sweetly then, thy passions, shall they play.
In all great measure dwells but sad decay.
In narrow compass, cruel and awkward things.
Melt then the moment to what mirth one may!
Well wine will warm, when wandering wit it wings!
To find joy in sorrow, sorrow in joy,
Whence withered wits, divine delights destroy.
Then for thy flock, what else wouldst have them be?
Shall all their moments reach eternity?
All leave my banquet, as they must.
I make them wet, yet still, they’re dust.
What shall they leave behind when once they’re gone?
Shall sorrow only other sorrows spawn?
Thou knowest, perhaps, we build a certain ship,
That mayst from here to dark Kimmeria slip?
Aye.
For I do hear their pounding night and day;
And all fair dreams, it chases straight away;
And what became of lethargy, I say?
Mayst not a lazy man have peace and play?
I build the ship, and yet shall mortals go?
Therein I need thy help, that it be so.
Dionysus, who divinity forgot?
Dionysus, drink debasing down to naught?
That Dionysus, is it, now is sought?
That Dionysus, aye. Yet speak not thus.
There’s greater pain abroad, than e’er ‘twixt us.
We ask a ship of mortals leave their home,
The land of light, to fog and darkness roam.
The sacred paths of Earth to leave behind,
And in its place, but dismal Hades find.
The treasured, troubled Earth beneath the sky!
We ask they leave, nor may we tell them why.
Let once I show the way and they shall go.
Enough! Tomorrow shall you know it so.