Long Accelerator Poems
Long Accelerator Poems. Below are the most popular long Accelerator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Accelerator poems by poem length and keyword.
Grandpa the Master Magician
Grandpa was old and creaked
like a well-worn floorboard
but he always carried a smile with him
which generally won the day or the situation.
He had just spent time with his two grandchildren
which had added fun to his morning’s recipe.
They saw Grandpa as this master magician
capable of producing an egg from either nostril
..…. boiled or not.
An eggcellent start to any day!!
Later, on an icicle of an afternoon
and confronted by a presumptuous wind
which blew him around street corners;
he found himself happily chasing his youth.
Newspaper and chocolate treat acquired
he set off for the finishing line of home.
He noted that the traffic lights were changing to red!
So, although not at the proper crossing, his GPS
i.e. Grandpa’s Priority Selector
was saying…GO! GO! GO!
However so was a fast-approaching Fiat 500!
Grandpa felt validated by time and experience so..
he sailed forth but time and his knees didn’t agree.
His legs instead of speeding up, started slowing down
which was the exact opposite of the flying Fiat,
driven ruthlessly by a manic-panicked driver
who exaggerated a swerve around Grandpa
with arms orchestrating her extremely annoyed thoughts.
Grandpa tottered on oblivious to the orchestrations.
He felt composed being lean, leathery and learned
as opposed to the driver’s ill-fed, ill-bred, ill-mannered approach.
However Grandpa, the master magician, wasn’t to be thwarted
so as his feet touched pavement, his hand touched cap,
then his winning smile and a flicked wave of politeness.
The driver just continued with her orchestration of
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor
while mouthing, “Is your brain on holiday!”
However life was to offer Granpa a final judgement
for as the traffic lights winked from red to green
our driver was still in a boil of botheration until…
a honk of reprimand from behind grabbed her attention.
Frustrated she tried to floor the accelerator pedal
but only succeeded in stalling the engine.
The horn hoots and toots began queuing up
until the Fiat 500 burnt rubber and swivel-hipped away.
Grandpa’s face showed not a flicker of amusement
but he allowed his bones to enjoy the moment -
particularly the funny one!
Then the wind giggled up, clapped him on the back
and then kindly blew him gently home!
There are times when the demon in us stealthily it appears...
How else I get to explain why I did what I did when life is so dear...
How can I explain away my flaunting of a basic safety driving rule...
It is dangerous to overtake vehicles while going downhill...
So it happened, the devil took over my steering wheel this day...
Speeding downhill, two automobiles I overtook rather easily...
At this speed I can take on one more vehicle, that oncoming car is so distant...
I pressed a little more on my accelerator, my double cabin truck shot forth..
That oncoming car, God! There's not enough distance to clear this overtake...
Stay cool, don't panic! Softly and steadily I eased down on my foot brake....
This vehicle I seek to overtake, its speed is much faster than my initial take...
In that split second, dire realisation struck home, you cannot clear this overtake..
Do I brace for impact, trusting in the good Lord, as the oncoming car grew in sight..
In a flash, I'll to trust the good Lord but I did a quick hard swerve to the right...
I'm through Lord! I was right to swipe across to the right to go for the side.....
Then that jarring impact, what's happening, my grip is firm on the steering wheel...
I'm thrown about, splintered glass rained upon me as I wondered will my car stop..
Felt my car heavily crashed through scrubs, saplings and bushes trying to stop..
Absolute silence, dazed comprehension, I'm in a collision, am I alright...
Slowly reached for the ignition, switched off, thankfully I felt alright...
Gingerly, reached across and released my safety belt, feeling no pain..
Cautiously, fearing broken bones or gaping wounds, I took stock again...
Praise the Lord, I feel alright, there's no pain nor bloodied spots...
Miraculously, I think I did alright as I reach to open my car door...
Half in daze, relief welling inside, slowly I let out my right leg outside...
Carefully placed my right foot down, gingerly eased out onto solid ground..
A numbed but relieved mind in me whispered softly, I think you made it...
God in heavens, I have gone through a high speed crash and survived...
Safe I am, this time...!
In my country, drivers are seated right and slow drive is on the left...unlike
Continental driving in the reverse...
No rhyme nor reason why
yours truly recalled how
me late mother
(earlier in her fitbit livingsocial years)
non verbally communicated disgust
(insync with audible sigh)
quite often ultimatums
blasting fulminating nauseating
scathing well nigh
she loosed loathing against
grungy looking son (guess who)
futilely escaped wrath of Harriet Khan
clamoring upon rooftop high
offering birds eye view
out of earshot and eyesight aye
catching sunbeams while smiling wry
cowardly lion sought divine intervention
courtesy sheltering sky
acres of shingles I sprawled
these lovely bones did lie
property of garden variety generic guy.
She who helped beget and birth
sole heir inheriting gamut of behavioral quirks
linkedin with many predecessors,
who trod, slunk, roamed...
across planet Earth.
Best bet said present day scribe i.e.
poetic, nonesstablishmentarian, liberal,
jesting, humble, freelance, dilatory bummer
whose hindsight evinced a student dumber
than his classmates wheedled
(as targeted scapegoat) by bullies their flummer
re: entrapped - worse louse than lice
internalized trauma left figurative tread marks
analogous to raging road runner
pressing accelerator pedal of hummer
driven by (an actual person) one Roger Kummerer.
Despite agonizing vicious tongue lashing
against flesh and blood,
which venomous invisible whiplash
never petered out
(even when sundry bloke
got married and gladly left home)
abusive treatment markedly
left appalling, loathing and percolating
ambivalence if though mama passed away
(these last seventeen plus years) wrung
cash crop of poetic endeavors,
albeit resultant lackluster
literary crafted aspirations.
Memory of mom overshadowed
by similar facsimile thereof
think shrieking banshee,
an indelible psychological imprimatur,
I strive to acknowledge
emotional reverberations to date
(May 27th, 2021).
My trademark wordsmith fashioned communiqué
impossible mission to shake off bittersweet feelings
toward once (former) Arthur Murray dance instructor
which fancy footwork synchronized with favorite
debonair handsome young fella (papa)
both flirts buoyant with elan and energy
only thru death will angst become free
interestingly enough hands will clap with glee.
Hobble Hobble Hobble0
Written for Cedarville Librarian Julie.
Absolutely no pressure on that knee for 6 weeks.
They gave me crutches
Hobble, hobble, hobble. to the door.
Husband waiting for me,
luckily.
I woke at nine.
Felt like , head ache and can’t get over it, Tylenol,
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Decided to take a shower took more than a hour.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Half an hour to get dressed.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Made a cup pf tea and spilled it on me.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Dropped the cup, it smashed on the floor.
Tea everywhere but mop is by the door
Hobble, hobble, hobble
I’ll use the mop as a crutch,
but I fell on the floor.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Can’t use a mop for a crutch no more.
But i left my crutch by the door.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
I looked everywhere,
I can’t find the dust pan and broom
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
I sat in the chair, stared at the tea spilt everywhere.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Dust Pan, broom and mop in hand
But I can’t bend over to a pick up any damn thing.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
So I just sit in the chair.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
Saved by a bell, the phone started to ring
Its on the bed across the room
But I can’t stand up to get the damn thing.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
I reached the phone and they hung up
Why, why why is this happening to me.
I dropped the phone, slipped and fell into the tea.
Hobble, hobble, hobble wobble splat.
The dog came over and wanted to play
I couldn’t… so she dragged my crutch away
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
So, I lay on the floor, in the tea, and the dog
kept licking my face and sitting on me.
Hobble, hobble, hobble.
I had to roll and roll to pick up my crutch.
Time to go to work,
Hobble, hobble, hobble to door.
Five minutes or more fo open car door.
Hobble, hobble, hobble to door.
Can’t use accelerator and brake on the floor
Not too late to stay at home,
Dewi Decimal system awaits.
Hobble, hobble, hobble
Seven-minute drive becomes forty-four.
Cant climb stairs, need help, so ill call.
, I left my phone on the chair by the door
So, I must Hobble, hobble, hobble
For five weeks more.
© london F. Buss 2024.and Librarian Julie
Have you ever gone out to the garage, slid behind the wheel of that Bowtie, twisted the key and lit off that big Rat …
Rolled out to the middle of the culdesac, two clicks down into low, left foot over the brake while you slowly depress with the right ...
And just as the squeal of the tires begins to stir the neighbors, you hammer the accelerator until it starts to dimple the sheet metal in the floor beneath ...
You see Bill come running out his front door just as you lose sight of his house in the rearview thru the billowing clouds of white smoke now forming ...
Mothers rush to scoop up their children and pull them to safety as you slowly release your left foot and begin to have to steer now to keep her straight ...
Wheel to the left, then to the right, as you start to pick up forward momentum, while watching the tach bounce around the redline and then slowly start to fade downward ...
The smoke entering the car's interior starts to burn your eyes as you squint and struggle to keep your focus on the now hazy landscape ...
Right hand ratchets up once into second as the rear tires continue to scream in protest and things start to speed by with just a little more urgency than moments before ...
Finally she starts to hook and the G's start to press against your chest as you hesitate, take in a small breathe, and then click up one more gear ...
The steering wheel feels light in your hands as you tighten your grip and, even though the smoke has vacated the interior, you still struggle to see clearly due to your pupils being flattened by the blinding rate of acceleration ...
Finally, unwillingly, you lift, as better judgement overcomes raw desire ...
Three blocks later the tires have cooled and the smoke has dissipated, but your heart rate is still 30 beats faster than normal ...
And as you sit at the red light, you take a deep breath to try to regain some composure and glance over to the little old lady in the Caprice next to you ...
And you say to yourself ...
“You think she wants to run?"
I am the Project Air Bridge,
The veritable virus lord-cum-felon of duty fraud.
Fumaye's privileged his bridge that projects pompous airs.
Maelstrom, mammon coextend where it forks and fares.
Transpontine ambulances shriek, hearses creak;
Cispontine pandemia profiteerings peak.
Lip service put onto pushy pumper,
Juggling jobbery jarred into cushy number.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A villainous virus lord-cum-gubernatorial wailing ward.
I have federal flag foil my neckties,
Have federal fiefdom at my behest.
At home seizing states' supplies,
In style feathering my own nest.
Grave grin toward myriad plunders amassing in size;
Frivolous glee unto stricken states moaning distressed.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A versatile virus lord-cum-omnivore slyly adaptive-jawed.
All foreign aids I indiscriminately swipe and sweep,
Compatriots in need, meticulously sift and bleep.
Cronies and bogeys bogart the most and the best;
Those in the doghouse, let viruses lay them all to rest.
My wheeling and dealing can always pay off,
Just owing so much to so many I always play off.
I am the Project Air Bridge,
A heinous virus lord-cum-Old Nick's Regalement Board.
Blanketed by bereavement are betrayed people,
Their wounds bleeding undressed.
Butchered for banquet, the Bald Eagle,
My plates attending undressed.
Muddy mug shades dirty cook;
Murphy's mug shakes leprous wine.
Worse stinks history's mug book,
Ever since its accession of mine.
Silver spoon feeds up mouth; siren's spoon feels up lips.
Sicking up are malapropism and spoonerism of freudian slips:
Feasting my eyes on boons cross air bridge,
No blink for victimized crossbones' bare ridge.
This is me, the Project Air Bridge,
The very virus lord-cum-Juggernaut Accelerator of boons-for-bones baud.
Poems from the heart I encounter with blissful delight
Offering vicarious insights in this welcoming global poetry site
Exposing myriad realities expressed in artistic might
Taking my empathy prowess to the next level of sensitivity-height
Reviving my poetic soul to express what’s right in the light
Yes, I’m thankful to God for PS ad the privilege to write!
Seeing my poems published is indeed an extraordinary blessing
Opportunities for faith-growth drives poetic accelerator increasing
Up I mount toward poem-contribution with mentor-poets’ appraising
Pursuit for craft-honing, along word-skill harnessing
Endeavoring to learn in this community, I keep on pressing
Refreshed with fellow-soupers' posts, delightfully pleasing.
Elated am I every time my entry poem garners a place
X-rays of judges keep me poetically fit in the race
Propelled to prevail along N/A (nice always) cheerful days
Enlivened by words, penned with life’s breath-grace
Ready for corrections I regard as worthy praise.
In Poetry Soup, I’m nourished with good comments’ bounty
Empowered likewise to assert truth upheld by biblical certainty
Nursed readily by prayer against attacking distress and anxiety
Cheered up to enjoy life amidst buffoonery masks’ dainty
Enriched to share poems’ wisdom, precious throughout eternity!
Acrostic with rhyme
*Deuteronomy 27:3 And thou shalt write upon them all the words of this law, ...which the LORD thy God giveth thee, a land that floweth with milk and honey; as the LORD God of thy fathers hath promised thee.
May 15, 2018
3rd place, "New Poets Only" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet; judged on 6/12/2018.
As the fog thickens like soup,
Driving down this old country highway in this old worn out old coupe.
Trying to make up lost time has got my old nerves tied up in a ball.
When right in front of me stands this big old buck deer, I slam on my brakes,
my tires start to squall.
The deer breaks and runs just barely in time,
As I skid right on by just barely brush his behind.
Talk about luck he’s riding shotgun tonight and I just locked his door.
Well I decide it’s time to push it just a little bit more.
The hour is quite late and I doubt any cops are about.
So I decide to test this old engine to see if it is still stout.
The accelerator to the floor and I’m still wanting more.
Well that’s all she’s got as I ease it off of the floor.
I don’t know what happened maybe an adrenaline rush as I regained control.
Kind of a spooky night like something is after my soul.
Well I shake off that thought and then the fog starts to thicken again.
When there in the road I swear it looks like the same old deer my friend.
Everything that happens is exactly as before.
I look at my clock, a quarter till four, what’s happening, I’m living this same
nightmare once more.
What’s going on and I’m starting to freak.
My heart is beating so fast I can’t seem to speak.
I decide to stop but this doesn’t look like a very good place.
When there in the road a man is standing and he is missing his face.
From out of the darkness more figures I see.
When there right beside me I hear this noise it’s buzzing at me.
And something grabs hold of me and just won’t let go.
It shakes and it shakes then I hear a voice you better get up time for the show.
I sure hate to admit it but I’m sure glad this was a dream.
Cause I sure wouldn’t want that guy with no face on my team.
'Twas the month before Christmas
When inside the house
The housewife was quiet
There's no sound, not even a grouse
When all of a sudden
There arose such a clatter
Even the Chihuahua came running
With tail tucked and in a chatter
Our grandson came running faster then Santa
In his magical sleigh
We all converged in the hall with this to say
Was that my husband, PawPaw or ???
Dear 'ole Claus who arrived to stay
They sprang into action
Found the backdoor jammed
Ran out the front
Found PawPaw whammed!
He had crash landed
And not on the roof
Driving grandma's sleigh
He tried to enter the den
What was wrong with him?
Grandma's wheels now undrivable
PawPaw embarrassed with this feat unsolvable
Tail-tucked Chihuahua scared out of his wits
Don't any of them know what to think of this
Well, when it is all said and done
My car was towed away
The den's damage surveyed
All the cost we still can't say
It has taken a toll on everyone
I think we need to go play
Nerves all jangled
Heart beating fast
Sleep eludes me
Somehow soon
It will all be in the past
Thank you, God
For your protection
I could have been in the den
In the push-button recliner total relaxation
The car could have kept going
That would have been a horrible end, my friends!!!
This happened this past Wednesday night at my home. That was on November 17, 2021. I have not been getting out much since the COVID outbreak and my husband went out to go to church then the next thing I knew the above was what happened. We are okay. No one hurt just scary, expensive and we still don't know what we are facing with all the repairs. Definitely not as bad as the picture. He said his foot slipped off the brake and hit the accelerator and he hit the house before he could get his foot back on the brake.
Probably with the most evilest of laughs!
89,000 gold nuclei per second.
Sounds medieval:knowledge and enquiry
based on ancient findings. Findings learned from
Latin and Greek Natural Scientist.
Medieval scientific knowledge and enquiry
precious metal gold was a dream of
medieval alchemists.
Instead of focusing on fixing individual parts,
systemic thinking looks at how everything
in a system is connected.
Have the Mad Scientist of our past made a comeback
through channeling into the souls of these men?
Are they wicked for achieving what Madmen
had tried to achieve for centuries?
Soliste in the power of invention.
Colliding beams of lead
short-lived gold ions.
refine particle-accelerator residue
lead is a very difficult element to make
lose protons and for it to lose 3 of them
to change it into gold requires huge
amounts of energy
These Men are either wise or Mad!
hematite, a iron oxide mineral
found on Mars might have inspired this Madness!
Their are no confirmed evidence of gold on Mars
surface
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<
_________________________________________
Romantic Meal
12 fried zucchini fries
12 eggplant fries
2 cups of brown ground pork
2 cups grated mozzarella
3 cups of tomato's sauce
sauteed onions and garlic
1/4 parmesan cheese
sauteed green bell peppers
sauteed mushrooms
pizza dough
deep dish casserole pan
1 teaspoon of anchovie fillets
1/2 chopped ham
1-2 cups of béchamel sauce
in dish layer dough.
add béchamel sauce top with ham
fried veggies and sauteed veggies
(add fresh basil & Oregano
leaves)
or sprinkle dried basil and oregano
add pareseam
top with tomato sauce mixed with
pork
top with mozzarella and bake
until golden brown serve with
a sald french fries and beer
;