Long Alley Poems
Long Alley Poems. Below are the most popular long Alley by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alley poems by poem length and keyword.
You could hear the sounds
of sideshow alley blaring out
from a mile away. The hollow,
metallic rasp of music
and glow of coloured lights rose
in a huge bubble
above the beach.
Adolescent dreams
would flutter the warm summer
evening like a mindless moth
revved up on hope. The clang
and clatter of rides, the yells
and excited screams sprayed out
of a whirling blur of lovely faces
wound your inflamed passions
ever tighter. The telepathic
signals you sent out
to catch an eye scarcely scored
a glance. Then poised on a chance,
your brain would freeze and hang
on your tongue like a lead balloon
leaving you gasping for air,
a hundred words away
from ruby lips tired of waiting
to blow you up.
Alone, at the end of the jetty,
all you could do was to let
the wind billow out
a swollen bag of unspoken words
and send them off winged
with a foolish hope. And then,
the long walk back, the sound
of sideshows subsiding
into the sad lament
of breaking waves, the smell
of urine soaked sand
wafting up from below
the boardwalk, the weighted
solitude of the bus ride home.
Someday, the heart of the ocean
With my soul, shall glisten
Someday, the heart of the ocean
To my call shall listen
Always rash and rowdy
It shall fill me up
And when I will wake up
There, in the heart of the ocean
No more will life be seen as being draconian
Rather, everything will seem panacean
A heart made of goodness
There, sharks and mermaids do dance
Lions and dragons do prance
And ships, sunk in miscreance
Do relish this state of blessedness
It lies deep at the bottom of the sea
None can see through the watery alley
Only those granted with the boon of faith
Those having been given a chance to repent
A chance of enjoy their existence, on the heart of the ocean
Someday, to that mystical heart
I shall belong, as would the verses to the poet
Someday, there, my tears would turn shiny
And my cloudy rainfall would be all lost
Lost, for surrounding me shall be water, made of a unique essence!
This poem was written on May 3, 2022,
When I heard the alerts for the next few days.
From 4-6 May 2022, 8-10 Tornadoes,
Hit Oklahoma, Texas and Kansas.
There's the siren that sounds,
That sends fear thru our veins and,
Has us running to hide and cover.
We watch the skies and listen to the TV,
For these falling funnel clouds,
That throw massive buildings and cars,
Like they're tonka trucks and Lego's.
They can level a town like Moore, Oklahoma.
Once in 1999,
Then again in 2013,
Both F-5's , being the most violent.
Yes Oklahoma is Tornado Alley,
But it's no joke.
We don't sit in our front yard,
Waiting for tornadoes,
If we did they would end of life.
We protect life and limb because,
These monsters are unpredictable and evil.
The only thing you wanna do is,
Run, cover and hide and pray,
You make it thru the night.
The curious construct of light, the shadow
outlines continually changing shape after shape,
as the creator illumines the objects of his choice,
from time to time all around his pervasive space.
The fading radiance of the past receding fast,
lighting up the gloomy grains of the broken heart,
casts shattered shadows on the pensive present,
holding the languished life in quicksand of despair.
From the dawning horizon of the distant future,
the beckoning light of the hued dormant hopes,
on the contours of the contrived present’s profile,
casts defining shadow of purpose on confused life.
As God drizzles divine sparks of grace from above
on the alien alley of current time we walk along,
life suffuses in its own shadow subtly enmeshed,
taking the shape of the entity He likes to construct.
The eternity then permeates passive frozen time,
absorbed in the shadow of instantly infusing bliss,
the tormented soul will find to sublimely drape
life carved out of ordained shadow God shapes.
April 30, 2020
Contest : Shadows
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
May 3, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice 1, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
In this unknown world of knowledge hilly,
You came as a Mozart in disguise dolly
To teach all teachers how to teach fully;
Benefitted though sad – not meeting daily.
Daily meeting not possible, gave a pulley
Of google drive and we see, hear our folly.
Giving a chocolate, taking note of us, O Alley.
A corollary we get makes us gorgeous frilly
No obfuscatory with him: sometimes chilly,
Times cold, but a hunky-dory, a true deli.
An accurate hortatory for English holy,
Teaching precise pronunciation alley
To improve us from state utter nugatory.
Encouraging, gave chances to all my folly;
Novel, pioneering, predicatory. Never did dally.
Blessed to have such a trainer as lovely lily
Had been an orator, excellent energetic filly.
Marwadi University is blessed with hilly –
The persons so high, so intelligent, O Molly!
Wish to have such a guide in my life daily
So that saccharin be added to life’s chili
And lethargy, fatigue, lassitude goes dully.
Let it be Surat or Morbi or Rajkot or Delhi
Dhanajay, Viral and Brij sir be with me fully.
When Filey's rebel rousing rats,
Were terrorising local cats,
Who would not engage in rodent wars
Refusing even, to go outdoors.
No match for rats, that scavenge scraps,
Instead they sat on old maids laps.
While alley cats who acted tough,
Those rabid rats ignored their bluff.
Until George Burton's name, became folklore
When he destroyed those vermin, by the score.
And with his most aggressive stance,
Those rodents simply, never had a chance.
Then he would say, when quite certain.
Another one's down, it's gone for a Burton.
1/ 10/ 2022.
This is a rather whimsical tribute to the pest controller
George Burton. Who helped the town of Filey North Yorkshire
to maintain health and safety. As a request from his granddaughter.
Mister Misanthrope had given up hope
On the entire human race
He'd bark and he'd bleat as he walked down the street
With a grimace on his face
Each day he would howl with a snarl and scowl
Most folk scurried as he neared
He'd chortle of death with foul rancid breath
Which was exactly what they feared
The skies became gray the birds flew away
Even rats would turn their backs
The locals weren't dreaming went running and screaming
To avoid his verbal attacks
One day in the valley down tornado alley
There formed a massive cyclone
With joy they saw Mister riding that twister
Into the great unknown
The mountain stream chisels a valley
Crystal water dances down in musical cascades
Crashing on the rocky ledges
Splashes silvery drops spiraling high.
They carry the cadenced expression
The stream proffers to the rock and to the sky.
A magnolia tree stands straight on the valley side
The leaves dancing in the rippling breeze
Fall subtly on the ground
Whispering autumn tunes to dew-tipped grass.
They carry the lyrical expression
The tree proffers to the breeze and to the grass.
The verdant valley is full of expression
In search of a poet to write a poem
On the mountain stream that cascades
Around the magnolia tree shedding autumn leaves
For you to be beguiled by their beauty
And be charmed by the rhythm.
The moonlight floods the alley
A young couple in the amorous shine
Looks in each other’s dreaming eyes
The touch of love makes silence play violin.
It carries the unspoken words
The couple says to the dreams and to silence.
The street lamp lights the alley in moonless night
A mother walks like an angel with her child on lap
The child makes sound the mother understands
The kiss mother gives touches the heart child feels.
They carry the mute words
The child utters in sound and the mother says in kiss.
The alley is full of words
In search of a poet to write a poem
On the young couple in the moonshine
On the angelic mother walking with her child
For you to perceive their emotion
And be enthralled by the lyric.
______________
August 15, 2022
For A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Contest
I woke up on a rooftop watching rain clouds mold
A seagull wearing sunglasses whispered secrets dipped in gold
A vending machine hummed softly saying life will sometimes fold
While a robot on a skateboard swore the future favors the bold
Old posters on the alley walls muttered nothing stays too old
And a wandering saxophone released the notes it had to hold
A suitcase full of riddles claimed its truths were never sold
And a neon painted turtle kept the city from turning cold
My shadow high fived strangers every gesture smoothly rolled
While a mime in glowing sneakers warned that rules were meant to scold
I grabbed a cup of lightning felt its shiver as I hold
And watched my drifting thoughts get interviewed and slowly polled
Blessings rained like glitter every spark precisely doled
As the skylines massive heartbeat struck each second that it tolled
I stepped into a sunrise shaped by stories I once bowled
And walked through shifting timelines where my voice never pigeon holed
I wrote it all down laughing as the universe just strolled
Then signed my name beneath it leaving a legend fully scrolled
— — — — — — — — — —
Children’s hands stained with fruit color in spring water,
right next to the old mill
where the yellow sand is sprinkled into rocks.
Moss and blueberries
on lumps of discarded illusions, they grow
up in the oak forest.
A wolf’s face with a mouth full of acorns
hungrily looks at the city with hot eyes,
and into the river light
between stone monoliths.
*
Like fugitives from the past
In the new year beginning,
at the window above the narrow passage
we have begun new countings.
Nights in the Old Town
with a quiet fire to welcome life
they reveal all the secrets
flowing in torrents to the water
waiting down there
at the end of a paved alley
and turns west
towards the dormant canals.
*
The river carries stones within its bed
been paid in gold millet.
Absorbs Eastern prayers,
they sprinkle the roofs asleep
and falls on the water
drunk with the holy words
of the hearts lost
in languages and names.
We are looking for an old book nest
created by mysterious visitors from the south
that let forgetfulness walk
and guards the shadows in deep sleep
under our hearthstone.
*
At night, you caress me on your lap,
and deep joy is awakened,
you bring peace by praying for us.
Ice cubes flow down the chest
melts on the thighs,
but the flow of kisses is down the back
unpredictable to the very end.
I hug you tired in my nest
while the smell of your hair on my face
whispers that it is unimportant
Are the city streets
covered with a gold
or with stone gray.
— -# — -