Long Air Poems
Long Air Poems. Below are the most popular long Air by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Air poems by poem length and keyword.
Note****I wish everyone a Merry Christmas. I do know it is December, but this poem demanded an outing, so here it is. When they want to be. We may be mere Serb ants. I am planning to do a Poetics blog about such things. Please watch for it. Here goes...
Childhood Summer
Room’s so hot I can’t sleep,
My fan’s the size of a bread plate
And it’s spinning shakes
The table it’s set on. Just
Me in the harsh night, while
I see through my open window,on
The street below nothing moves
To stir up air and send it in.
I lie attuned to the night.
Wiping sweat off my brow.
Slapping a crawling fly off my thigh.
I go down to the kitchen where
Mom sits as I know I will find her,
With five newspapers half-read,
A glass with whiskey and water, its
Ice melted, half-drunk. She wipes
The sweat from her brow. I glance up,
The clock cookoo’s two a.m. and
She says, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Truth.
I answer, “Right.”
Is
At her elbow, the radio news
Broadcasts, ”86 degrees.”
It’s the tropics come to live in New Jersey
In 1965, so there’s no central air and
The fan in the kitchen is only the size
Of a dinner plate, rattling the metal stovetop
Where it sits making no difference.t5
Heat rises. I stay in the kitchen; stretch out
To sleep on the floor. Mom, I hear, rises
With a newspaper in hand and walks
To the screen door, to lean out, to fan herself,
As if the difference mattered.
*******. ********. ********. *******
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/18/2020
Thanks be to God
A chill creeps in at morningtime,
the harbinger of winter climes,
and yet the crispness feels divine;
at least it does to me.
There’s a scent of moldering leaves,
they flutter down upon the breeze,
the earth below they all will feed;
how it is meant to be.
Then comes a whiff of new wood smoke,
no, not the kind that hippies toke,
a fire that warms like a cloak;
it kicks up the degrees.
Out for a walk, the scent of blood,
that’s coming from the neighbor, Doug,
the deer he hunted, now he cuts;
a winter’s worth of meat.
This raw whiskey, it smells so strong,
in liquor stores in don’t belong,
liquid apple pie can’t be wrong;
the autumn chill it beats.
sometimes
misconstrued
in a fluorescent grove
where malachite petals
marry emerald blades
verbose biting chews
too close to the cheek
among a confetti of bees
amid undulating bumps
of raw superfluous air
interdimensional entities
of spectral occurrence
wave with graphic-less suave
to gurgles, to coos, to hehs
seek noodle communication
to a bouncing mistaken few
using the eyebrow medium
of coincidence
a babbling infrasonic tool
of curious happening
sometimes
misunderstood
exhume, with heed
supressed benevolence
they fly shapelessly
in quartered skies
aloof in mocking flight
frilly, frothy entities
divebombing ghettos
exacting urban sprawl
chance upon neonates
and families out picnicking
feeding babies whose
knowing smiles to air
see, or do they?
– beware
Aeriforms
I am loving a man whoz
Just in the Air;
To whom for hours I tend to stare
in those stars to till moon.
Wishing you could too
be wishing out to the moon and
loving a girl whoz
Just in the Air.
And then I look to you when
all that is a Mess,
So to just stress a little less
of the take on my life which
I surely don't get,
I Breathe You in Me
thinking just if you could be
the only key to me.
And I hold me soo tight
Thinking of you;feeling your sight
of the moon,you see of me
And the stories of yours might
Resemble to Mine
And what I tell you,
nobody else can match you,Me;Us
The story that is based on the Moon
travelling faster than light,
just Us in our mind,A stupid it sounds
of my tangled up mind
but thats how I can soothe my heart
by the tales that how
our love story should start ;By how
I am loving a man whos
just in the air
to whom for hours I tend to stare
in those stars till moon
wishing you could too
be wishing out to the moon and
loving a girl whos
Just in the air.
in the center of the air that you breathe
even though you are long gone
i push and pull and tug and shove until that feeling is perfect
i spray the ebony essence for the purpose of your liveliness
i spray the ebony essence for the saving grace of myself
in the center of the air that you breathe
even though the letter planted a stubborn elephant on my skull
i yell and scream and shout and exclaim your name until a forced makeshift echo
is present
it is then that you appear as if on cue with forgiveness in your eyes
i smile with this temporary relief on the edge of an odd sort of insanity
you walk slowly to me with your ample hips swaying with the booty speaking a
quiet language to me
it is then that i become externallized from myself and yearn to do things that
reawakens those senses overtaken by dust
i imagine you as the broom with pillow soft breasts sweeping me clean....off my
feet again....
i think i will let you pull down the shade now....
The air filled with cries,
As people see, humanity dies.
Gaza bleeds and screams,
While the rest of the world dreams.
Seeing their condition; eyes filled with tears,
But they refused to give what's theirs.
For the only one they fear is God,
Giving them hope that His help is near.
Little children die of hunger,
Telling the world their faith is stronger.
Hungry children cry with tears in their eyes,
Watching as their loved one dies.
Always standing hand in hand,
They say,”We won't give our land”.
As history tries to erase their mark,
Sadness came with dark clouds,
“We will neither forgive nor forget”, the world shouts
The night air pulses with the tunes of my anguish
Remember, whispers it to my sulking face,
Remember of the romance meant to be lived
In eternity!
Remember of the cause of your fall
Remember of the divine guidance!
The night air pulses and the chilly winds prick me,
Bidding me to open the pores of my senses,
So receptive to the wills of my own fate!
Keeping my faced turned up to the hovering moon
I clasp my arms tight around myself
Letting the tears flow as painfully as they wish
Letting the hurt engulf my whole essence
Letting the agony of my fate coil and uncoil itself
Around me, as much as it wishes to
Taking no account of anything else!
Pray, submission fills up my love ponds
Weary and tired of life,
I have simply turned to love,
Submissively,
Wishing to bloom in between its arms
Or to die at its hands
Whichever shall it will
As long as the night air shall keep pulsating
With the tunes of my anguish!
After all, my story originates from the time
When Creation did not exist yet
It shall have to keep on being alive,
As such is what the bearers of Existence
Have willed for me!
Sandcastles built upon a pristine beach are a marvel to behold,
With much pride taken by the architect to design and mold!
But, alas, this fragile work of art is destined to be savagely razed
By the inexorable creep of hissing surf, leaving the builder dazed!
Many folks spend their time daydreaming, building castles in the air,
But, oft' such dreams crumble, washing o'er them in waves of despair.
Whether one builds castles in the air or sandcastles nigh the sea,
Each is but a fleeting dream with no imperishable guarantee!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserve
Placed No. 3 in Gail Doyle's "Sandcastles By The Seashore" Contest - May 2012
What’s that in the air? Covid operations?
Does that virus never think or sleep?
And what about a vaccination?
Things will do what they will do
To grasp the situation moving forward
Too bad simpler minds can’t prevail
What’s that in the air? A needle point?
Can it penetrate the skin of the recipient?
Things in life that never sleep will never wake
Will do as they will do so stop it! You can’t stop it.
Before we inoculate the day, let us pray
An Immaculate Conception is in the air
Take a deep breathe. See! That didn’t hurt
There is nothing worse than air that hurts
Quote: Do you ever wonder why we build castles in the air? Perhaps, it's to soften the blow of a harsh world that never seems to slide nor adjust to our individual expectations.
Ever since I was a little girl the blooming fields
and goldenrods of nature held me captive in a spell
Heartbeat moments of grace sifted through me
at the most unexpected moments
leaving transient gifts, in a playground full of magic !
A young impressionable child was I, held captive
by the Holiest of things here and far beyond !
***
I remember the Angels fanning their wings
turning my weightless body into feathers
in a field full of daisies and floating castles in the air.
It was in a carousel ride full of flying horseys,
then one day I asked the Angels to take me home,
"Let go child " was all they said, and then they flew away
leaving me sitting there, me and my childhood whirligig !