Long Activity Poems
Long Activity Poems. Below are the most popular long Activity by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Activity poems by poem length and keyword.
My favorite hobby has always been scrapbooking
It's such a creative activity to do
For pictures and poems, I'm always looking
Forever scanning magazines through and through
I look for pictures of people and places
Some happy, some excited, some tired, some sad
I try to find real emotional traces
And whatever I like, to my scrapbooks I add
Over the years many books I have made
Scrapbooks of poetry old and new
Old web sites and online pictures I raid
Some of my scrapbooks are happy, some blue
Certainly, on this hobby you can say I'm hooked
There's nothing like it to keep me involved
No one would believe how hard I have looked
For rhymes and riddles that will never be resolved
I started this past time at our church
Each Wednesday all the ladies would look
Each one in her chair quietly perched
Consumed with finding the perfect hook
Everyone knows that you must create ideas
Inspiring and intriguing to reel in a person
Someone who will cast off all their fears
And stop to read your poem for a life lesson
I love scrapbooking, it's so rewarding
It brings childhood memories back to me
School days when with friends consorting
Times that were so happy and carefree
Often I reread through my many books
Books I've created by myself
Sometimes I find things that I've overlooked
Words that reveal how I once felt
Poems about family and friends so dear
Poems about God's creatures so lovely
Poems about Nature, Seasons, and Fears
Poems about things you can't buy with money
I'm planning on leaving my scrapbooks all
To my kids and grandkids after I'm done
When this life with its troubles are just a sad pall
And all they have left is the legacy I've begun
I never had many pictures or prose
Left me by parents or other relations
That's why I suppose I strive to compose
Scrapbooks to leave to younger generations
I want them to always remember me as
The Grandma that loved them so
I hope they realize that I had pizzazz
Even though I can't leave them much dough
The things that are important in life
Aren't always the things that are seen
When you live through all the sorrow and strife
You'll understand just what I mean
A love of poetry is what I will leave
For my children and grandchildren too
For what is a life and to what will you cleave
If great poetry is missing from you
By Julia Shaw
May 2020
In regard to human's such abject abyss and absurdity, we can't help questioning: can human still be indulgent in the virulent vainglory having shaped their pretentious and dangerous preconception of a human-centered and human-dominated cosmos? can human waywardly go on with their ecologic vandalism having already triggered the macrocosmic nature's wrath and punishment? In fact, all their perverted precepts and practices have spoilt or to a large extent countervailed the hard-earned results of their positive efforts. ( e.g. vaccine development, treatment of the infected)
As can be seen more often than not: Overloaded hospital wards and overwrought medical workers are outflanked by waves of overwhelming epidemic peaks, and the process of vaccination popularization outpaced by the viruses' variation and proliferation. Indeed, human's arrogance, ignorance and particularly conscience absence have estranged them from one informative sense: The best remedy is the due respect for the macrocosmic nature that nurtures the entire universe and the due reverence for her sovereign system that really dominates every being and everything living or working inside her domain; The best vaccine is the virtue of taking all harmless lives kindly and taking kindly to the nature's heartfelt call for every bio-community member's benign ecofriendly behavior.
Having ironed out the aforesaid reasoning and arguments and having made clear our firm attitude and stance, we hereby urge Spanish, Dutch butchers and especially the Dane banes:
Stop your criminal and cruel cull without delay, do not engage any more in any activity that may bring us extinction, mass toll and physical or psychological harm, let us resume enjoying our old habitat safe and calm.
We also want to extend our exhortation to all of the human being: Make a thorough stock-taking of the circumstances of correlated infection-prone species and overall epidemic aspect before renouncing your previous evil ways and recommitting to building a livable eco-environment and lovable bio-community. Only after the strict imposition of precautionary disciplines upon your daily behavior, would there be a promising future of fine faith and fair fortune for every existent being under the sun, of course including yourselves; In the bargain, would come genuinely effective epidemic-controlling & prevention mechanisms for yourselves.
So, I guess a 12 year old
American brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
is outside your boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
Well, I can see why you would need
to draw your boundary
for healthy rationality
outside his grassy field of fire-armed play.
I can see why we need to draw this line
of "only predictably SWM domesticated life matters"
the way we do
to look our friends and children in the eyes
while saying,
"I can accept this loss
as one caused by an unfortunately timed
dual act of accidental wildness;"
But is it not significantly wilder
to fire ballistics at youth
than for youth to fire only ballistic imagination?
I can see that we need to doubt
reasonable risks of public recreation
for some lives
differently than other lives
and times
to gaze into our social-cultural mirror
with both eyes
fully comprehending compassionate integrity:
"We accept that Black Adolescent Lives Splatter
loss across our leaking shared loves and livelihoods,
thereby wilting our collective mental health,
starving our social wealth for future regeneration,
and yet hope we still dream
of somehow re-transposing,
All Lives Matter
in current US ReligiousRight culture.
Now that is egocentric mendacity;
not even Anthro-centric integrity.
We each and all must hunt our way
toward facing our fear of ourselves
our lack of empathy
and mind positive passions
and body healing pleasures
surpassing our neglectful lack of fully activating
Win/Win panentheistic wisdom.
Some hunting ways bring further AnthroSupremacist
Business As Usual
cognitive-affective dissonance;
further failure of Earth's polycultural integrity,
further degenerative ego-traumatizing stasis.
Some hunting ways promise more co-operative co-arising ballast
for culturally active hope.
It is this ballast we seek
between our self/other-reflecting eyes,
hoping to discover peace within as justice without,
and not more enslaving reductive addiction
to ballistics of overly-automated violence
Silent souls
full-will impassioned pleasures
without sufficient time to assess full-intent,
responding to fear of fear ourselves,
right between our blindered eyes
So it becomes challenging to see
a brown male playing by himself
with a toy gun
as well within our mental health care boundary
for normal early-adolescent activity.
The Possum of Possibilities was invited by Grandpa Troll to visit our brood,
The Possum heard Carol had a dry spell and a terrible writer’s block, so true.
With the troll’s adventures, penguin’s antics, and witches brew...
With Dragon’s mayhem in town, something had to be done, they knew.
Grandpa Troll brought Possum over, for Carol to peruse,
He looked her up, down, and sideways to everyone’s amuse,
Her mind’s wheels were not lined up right, he announced.
You have activity all about you, that's very pronounced.
It is all swirling around and not latching to the cogs.
Ideas and stories are coming in fast and plenty, but…
There are so many and they are acting like a stream of logs,
Her brain is overloaded and getting a little bit clogged.
Possum instructed Grandpa Troll on the best course of action,
But Dragon was nearby and overheard the conversation.
Our fiery friend was planning on how to clear the brain jam,
Then ski-daddle and go on the lam.
Like so many plans before, he knew Carol’s brain was crammed,
And his ideas always ended up like some explosive spam.
Grandpa Troll saw that look in Dragon’s eyes and knew there was a plot,
And said to Possum; “We'll need your help again, before we’re in a spot.”
Over to Dragon Possum went, then a once over, right, left, and top to bottom,
Grandpa Troll reached into a dusty drawer that hadn’t seen light since Suttom.
Out he pulled two pens, one larger than the other, filled with magic ink.
An incantation filled the air – “E pluribus divideous writeous inlink.”
(Basically saying; what stories were divided are now joined by two writers.)
Possum handed one to Carol and the larger one to Dragon.
“With the magic pens, you both will be able to see the stories about you.”
For Carol, he pointed out; now the cogs won't get dinked, as ideas get linked,
And Dragon, a source of the jams, once written down, became happy as a clam.
Both help each other, now, as Grandpa Troll had hoped with all the activities.
And with a little help from an old friend, called the Possum of Possibilities.
A writer’s block that was going on with his dear...
Is a tale that Hubby has now told, and made so clear.
And now another peaceful evening… was suddenly shot all to Heck...
Until Next time…. As Dragon and Carol are now racing all about!
Michael Eastman & Carol Written 7-21-2015
Cowards die many times before their deaths…
Julius Caesar, Act II, Scene 2 ~William Shakespeare
spouse
a souse
classic grouse
a big girl's blouse
portent ominous
assertions blasphemous
obscure and anonymous
his skulking is nefarious
utterances acrimonious
and implicature often dubious
uxorious but still pusillanimous
**********************************
An example of a rhopalic verse.
Rhopalism: A rhopalic sentence is one in which each successive word is one letter longer than the previous one. In poetry: where each word is one syllable more, or it might increase each line in a stanza by one syllable (per my example), or a metric foot.
IN THE SAME CATEGORY OF CONSTRAINED WRITING
The Rhopalic Couplet, also called Wedge Verse, was first used by Homer in the Iliad (3.182). It is a poetic unit of 2 rhopalic lines where each word progresses adding one more syllable than the preceding word in the line, for example, 1, 2, 3, 4 … syllables. The sequence of the syllable count can be identical in the second line, or it may be reversed. The couplet does not need not rhyme.
_____________________________________________________________
In The Coward, stanzas are broken up along the syllables of the end rhymes: spouse, souse, grouse, blouse; om-i-nous, blas-phe-mous, a-non-y-mous; ne-far-i-ous, ac-ri-mo-ni-ous, du-bi-ous & pu-sil-lan-i-mous.
LEXICON
acrimonious: (adj) (typically of speech or discussion) angry and bitter.
a big girl’s blouse: British idiom, meaning someone is ineffectual or weak; someone failing to show masculine strength of determination
disposition: (n.) inherent characteristics.
grouse: (n.) one who complains constantly.
implicature: (n.)* the action of implying a meaning beyond the literal sense of what is explicitly stated, for example, saying the picture frame is nice and implying I don’t like the picture.
innate: (n.) inborn, natural
nefarious: (adj) (typically of an action or activity) wicked or criminal.
portent: (n.)
1. a sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen, an omen.
2. (literary) an exceptional or wonderful person or thing. [‘What portent can be greater than a pious notary.’]
pusillanimous: (adj) showing a lack of courage or determination; timid.
souse: (n.) a drunkard.
it seems …
like yesterday
and it seems like forever …
I can see them clearly
I can feel the soft wrinkles of skin
her little hands -
clutching the round disc
skin as thin as tissue paper
veins winding their purple-ish way
across bone and tendon
not always so delicate …
I think of all the miracles those small
appendages worked -
all the wonders taken part and witnessed
many times for the benefit of my
own rather undeserving hide …
almost obsequious in their regard
(when it came to me, anyway)
unspoken, that bond
since before time,
at least in my awareness of it
and that alliance has been my salvation
more times than I can
put number to …
that amazing woman -
small in stature, yet anything BUT in
energy and spirit -
saw the activity of her sweet hands shrink with
her height and strength
until she could no longer perform all
but the simplest of tasks …
oh, her mind stayed as clear as a glacial rill,
sharp and witty and creative
and the spark in her eyes
always shined bright
but moons and miles took their toll
and I became her legs and
arms and ears …
it was a job that blessed me
beyond imagination
and one I see now that she
trained me for …
so …
while her small hands came to lack the
vigor for most daily tasks
she could still press the call button on
the little disk that hung around her
neck like a pendant …
it was ME on the other end, you see
as our unspoken bond had become a very
vital electronic one …
I didn’t give that button much thought, really
until one night I was putting her to bed
and she grabbed my arm with one hand,
grasped her call disc with the other,
looked deep into my gaze
and said to me …
“I always keep this close to my heart,
because I know that whenever I press it,
my angel … will come”
now …
those little hands are but memory
(tho I held them ‘til the warmth was gone
then lay them upon her) …
but I keep that buzzer near me
for it means so much more than I can express
and sometimes I press it,
(as silly as that may seem)
sometimes I press it … and pray -
I pray even harder than I prayed when
I was faithful …
but nothing happens
there is no sound
and no one ever comes
for SHE was the angel …
and I …
was the needy one.
* For the “Seems Like Yesterday” Poetry Contest sponsored by
judge/sponsor Mystic Rose Rose. *
Whenever I am reorganizing and freeing up space in the garage, it's always just a matter of time before she'll come calling.
Or I'm on the computer writing or catching up on the news, it never fails that an urgent honey do was just about due.
She's been visiting relatives for the last two weeks. She's got two more weeks before she returns home to me.
More than expected, I felt her absence the very first week. Several times I have caught myself waiting to be interrupted.
Often I've had to readjust or reprogram my mind; "Home alone". I say to myself, "Oh wow, she's not here", and resume my activity.
In 45 years of marriage, we have never been separated this long. Realistically, for the first time, I am missing her in a whole new way.
In 45 years, I've never missed her this long, this much, this way. I'm niether bored nor lonely, because I always have plenty to do.
I have been gathering and eatting more tomatoes since she's been gone.
I suspect I'll be eatting crowder peas and zucchini before she gets home.
I wish she could have seen me gathering peaches and nectarines today.
I can't deny; I've eatten more ice cream than I should; but I'm not all bad.
Why, a couple of days ago, I made a very tasty peach/nectarine smoothie. I must confess; I just have to say; I kid you not; and believe me when I say.
I will welcome her return and not be sad when things return to normal. But I'm 'tickled pink' that since she's been gone, the phone hardly rings anymore!!
72717FBPS
Remember...Remain Calm, Collected, And Cool...
Matthew Scott Harris...ARG
This, a near imp
possible mantra to apply
when this 2009
Macbook Pro went awry
triggering this enduser
to experience tidal waves of high
anxiety, which besieged this fie
foo fighting dirt po' pa well nigh,
who might need buy
another laptop, yet my
anorexic checking account
on life support, no lie
could not afford, (to sigh
phone even one red cent,
all because ordinary healthy
electrons deployed aye
did NOT see usual expected
predictable apple luck
quiche hun activity via my
left and right eye,
yours truly did not espy
usual kickstarting linkedin magic after
preliminary electronic setup
unexpectedly failed to start -
no idea why
unbeknownst tummy, what
ghost in the machine didst defy
programming code of honor,
whereby pixel display
unexpectedly exhibited "abnormal"
computer behavior -
like a turncoat ally
meaning one hoop wrest
illegally start button signaling
subatomic warfare unleashing - guy
did missiles as taught
during routine training
to turn bot tin down stevedores
loose on the Jobs (dan-g) rather, I
watched slack jawed,
as that very singularly narrow
vertical lined band width
(analogous to a medium black
sabbath tipped magic marker)
did NOT display
prestidigitation instantaneous flash
demarcating binary DMZ
(demon mailer zone,
viz dividing screen in half, -
versus top to bottom array), qua
incomplete automatic
initialization stopped
partway thru automatic preparation,
after which cryptic
error message appeared,
which malfunction found me
bursting with damned tears,
and ready to cry,
(which gush of tear
rivalled Hurricane Florence),
cuz mechanical and/or
application so much
of my creative
write minded person
(reed literary) self choked life vie
ability to live, thus the only alternative
...insane asylum to apply!
--------------------------------
SPOILER ALERT...
postscript: after some fluke brought
desk top in view, the quick thinking
chap attached an external drive to a
USB port, and thus breathed easier
knowing a backup got made.
Disguised as an Apple Computer Technician.
He initially hacked Macbook Pro laptop.
He (alias Harvey Specter)
planted seeds of suspicion
that criminal activity prevailed
within my geographic area in general
or questionable individuals
lurked within or without
Citizens Bank in particular,
and suggested yours truly (me)
to be wary about
over friendly employees
at aforementioned capital one
storied financial institution.
Said gonif (pulled a masterful subterfuge)
inveigling yours truly to carry out heist
of the twenty first century
against his honest good n plenti resources
(subsequently checking and
savings accounts severely depleted).
The invisible webbed wide whirled net
ensnared me lock, stock and barrel.
Little did I know
the spellbinding impact
until the dirty deed done dirt cheap
found writer of these words
figuratively holding the empty bag
where I got forced to trod
analogous highway to hell
courtesy diabolical, inimical, satanical...
devil may care disguised cozener
who wove believable scenario
claiming Citizens Bank employees
involved in suspicious conspiracy
to siphon off hard earned bucks.
I submissively consented
to participate and cavalierly disperse
freshly minted Benjamins
suddenly linkedin
chain of events
rocketing, kickstarting, and experiencing
a worse horror than death
mortified at being bushwhacked.
The feeble explanation, justification,
qua obliteration, ululation
trumped with lame excuse
yours truly not in his right mind.
Mind control, (albeit remotely)
assassinated rationality while hypnotically
feeling commanded, governed,
née kid lee killed
mine esprit de corps
among kith and kin
consigning thrifty troubadour
to the depths of despair
wishing termination of existence
in tandem with damnation, interrogation,
penalization, et cetera of nasty brute.
After series of unfortunate events brought,
where innocence and naïveté caught
teetotaler tempted to drink deadly draught
of top quality hemlock sold
at many bustling entrepôt
cuz now existence fraught
with torturous quaking
nauseating, kickstarting hatred
of self, thus restitution
of funds sought
by folks willing bestow largesse.
If yes check out (fiasco from fraudsters
frazzles father)
legitimate platform
where charitable people swarm
and toys are sold.
I have known and walked the right path
But now I’m in chains
I’m restrained
My soul is in captivity
My days consist of drug-induced activity
To know and not do is insanity
I watch my life pass before me
It's vanity.
I know the Truth
It’s right in front of me
But to grasp Its’ power
I find none of my own
I am not proud that I blow clouds
I’m living in a daze
I sit in smoke filled rooms
It’s like being lost in a maze
Like coins in my pocket
I spend my life on menial things
I live like loose change
Sadness is what it brings
What will I have to show for the life I’ve spent
My time is lent
I do not own it
My world is small
Each day is predictable
My addictions runs deep
I think it’s despicable
But I stopped resisting
Now I’m merely existing
And I watch my life fade away
The struggle is real
Many layers i need to peel
Oh that I would be free
I want to spread my wings
Fly like an eagle
So strong and so regal
I want to reach heights beyond my limits
Soar on the wings of His power
Hour by hour
Ascending higher
Becoming stronger
Redeeming the time
Live a little longer
And trust in the One who knows me
I want to make wise choices
Drown out those voices
That have controlled my thinking for too long
I want to belong
Sing a new song
Right all my wrongs
While I yet have my breath
I want to go the distance
Finish the race set before me
Overcome the odds that are clearly against me
And reach my destiny
Until Heaven becomes my home
I want these chains broken
And my enemies choking
From words of Truth I proclaim
Achieve victory in His name
Live for His glory
Be powerful proclaiming His story
Witness other prisoners become free
That they too may spend the remainder of their loose change
Serving others
Being sisters and brothers
Until the sand in the hourglass runs dry
And true life for us all begins
I want out of this pit
Stretch my arms
Reach for the sun
With hundreds of children beside me
All the new believers born from my obedience
To learn from my experience
Its expedient
But as of now
I'm like a dripping faucet
My life is leaking
One drop at a time
Loose change
Spending nickels
Spending dimes
Less and less with each passing day
Knowing when the change runs dry
Is the day I depart
A citizen in Heaven at long last