Long Alternates Poems
Long Alternates Poems. Below are the most popular long Alternates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alternates poems by poem length and keyword.
With frill-edged petals, in red, white, orange and yellow,
Beauteous daffodils gorgeously gleam and glow;
With long, wide, collaterally aligned leaves stand erect,
Tulips of all colors, as though in beauty so perfect;
Blue urn shaped flowers thrill-filled dancing,
Muscari stands as though glory-glaring;
Nodding with bell-shaped flowers, Lily of the valley,
Stands solemn with its glossy leaves with no folly;
Flowers, indeed, make my spring gloriously great,
My soul, a butterfly midst them, joyfully does elevate;
Their tentativeness, when, my mind alternates,
Rebirth and resurrection, like seeds, in me, germinate...!
07 March 2022
Spring Showers or Spring Flowers Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
While rummaging, mining,
and distilling me gray matter,
stoking mentality activates
oft time surprising me,
where unexpected novel
cognizance never abates,
I experienced becoming
linkedin with cosmic fates,
sans collective unconscious
soul of the universe,
and chanced to espy,
(albeit only a trimmed speck),
the spirit of William Butler Yeats
considered one of the foremost figures
of 20th-century literature,
where elan suddenly accelerates
though immediately abruptly stops
dead still in figurative tracks
utter disbelief accompanied
by shell shocked shyness accentuates
to remain stock still
suddenly feeling inadequate, inferior
immovable, insignificant...self doubt actuates
internal tussle, while
wise counsel within adjudicates
unable to convincingly
brush off devil's advocates,
which in no way, shape or form
successfully bolsters cockamamie idea,
floats and navigates fan to see, alternates
with bold prospect an emotional
paralysis immediately aggravates
anxiety as cowardice accumulates,
nonetheless pesky needling aggregates
maximizing far fetched optical illusion,
despite what must be hallucination,
this laughable wordsmith appreciates,
though many wildest dreams of mine defy
explanation, a feeble attempt articulates,
how dreamlike hypnotic stance captivates,
thru cosmic haze quantum matter assimilates
aura, charisma, enigma
rippling ethereal tore'n shroud
sensing, nursing, imbibing...
indecisiveness capitulates
wavering seduced mooring
temptation assertively celebrates
nonpareil genius among pantheon,
whose Eire rush grandeur circulates
thru time and space infiltrates
stimulating within mine off kilter crown,
where reverence circulates,
for long deceased Irish poet laureate,
his unseen presence amalgamates
vibrant tendrils of late
August author's grandeur effectively percolates
within and illuminates me with inspiration.
Lightning lances across the sky
But off in the distance like dragon spines
Are the Mountains of Madness
And that is where I march
A sky twisted scarlet and violet
The clouds themselves seem to be bleeding
And the temperature alternates
Between blistering heat and blizzardly freeze
Reality is fabricated from dreams
And dreams are a distortion of my thoughts
Which are poorly mimicked by my voice
And I can't even tell what is real
I found the blade of heroes
In a secret spring in a forgotten forest
Blessed as a scion of the gods
Even the elves helped guide my feet
A witch cast illusions over my eyes
Humans became demons
And demons became human
But the harsh reality is that was always true
In a world of demons and angels
Sometimes it's hard to know which is which
But with a hand over my heart
I offer a solemn prayer to find guidance
The Mountains of Madness loom larger
Demons, angels, and witches all beaten
And while never defeated I have been wounded
But to the mountains I have come
But alas the madness was not in the mountains
Because the madness was in my mind
And the villain I pursued this whole time
Was actually me all along
All Eagles!!
There is a time in everyone’s life when Mother Eagle throws you out of the nest and either you fly or die,
All Eagles!!
There are times in your life where those closest to you make you feel like the worst person ever born.
All Eagles!
When you feel yourself plummeting to the ground at ever increasing speed and the only future you feel is your body splattered on the ground.
All Eagles!
When you lose all of your faculties and feel like there are little creatures crawling around in your body,
All Eagles!
When you are diagnosed with terminal and inoperable Cancer.
All Eagles!
When your spouse divorces you for your closest friend, and you have to see the two of them once a week as custody alternates,
All Eagles!
When the investors of your startup all decide to pull out, and the electric company threatens to turn your lights off if you don’t pay the utility bill,
All Eagles!
When you are plummeting to the ground, assured that your demise is upon you.
Feel it!
Experience it!
Be discouraged!
Be afraid!
This is natural!
But as you descend, and after you have mourned and grieved appropriately,
Reach within yourself and find this message:
“Little Eagle, I know that I seem like a cruel God to let you experience this.
But I have a plan.
This is not the end for you.
You were destined to fly.
But you are an Eagle, and before you fly you must fall,
You must fall with terrifying speed,
And you must feel like all is lost,
And when you let go of everything you thought you wanted out of life,
And you say to me, “God what’s next?”
That’s when you will feel the strength to spread your wings and sore!!
Little Eagle, I know it seems like there isn’t much more that you can try,
But don’t give up,
Because death is not your destiny,
You are created to fly!
Now do so!!”
My grandparents lived on farms – both sides of my family.
My mother’s parents and my father’s parents.
Overalls and button down shirts with pockets
Work boots for grandpas
Except my single grandpa did get dressed up fancy
For Saturday night dancing with his girlfriend.
He smelled wonderful too, wore a lariat with a turquoise stone
Shined his shoes as if he was going to church
My maternal grandmother was the only one I knew.
She wore a navy dress with large white polka dots
When we had weddings or funerals, and low heel shoes
The rest of the time I remember her wearing aprons over dresses
My mother was the first woman I saw who wore pants.
She preferred them to dresses, and took to polyester in a big way.
Remember the pantsuits of the seventies? I swear she invented those.
Matching tunics with wide legged pants.
My father wore plaid shirts or camouflage jackets
Unless he was going to work; then he wore a dark suit.
He was a salesman with a skinny tie.
He always looked crisp and clean; mom used starch on his clothes.
My style was wide bell bottom blue jeans that we called hip huggers.
When I was younger, and tops that looked maternity in the seventies.
This was the real style which horrified me in 1974, as I had to wear these blousy tops two years in a row
because I had a baby at twenty and twenty-one.
My new style is comfort. I am sixty-eight. I wear tennis shoes.
Elastic waists, soft clothes that are not tight, I love feeling free.
My husband is the same way – comfort clothes, elastic waists.
We like eating tasty foods; no blue jeans for us now.
We have three children. They dress according to their lives.
One has six children, but she dresses fancy and so do they.
Another has no children, she’s a professional. She dresses in suits.
Third child alternates between casual and fancy; working mom of three.
Our grandchildren are eclectic fashion displayers also.
Super controlled grandchildren wear traditional clothing,
Approved by mom or they do not leave the house.
The ones who are wild like our middle daughter have pink and blue hair.
I see dresses that are too short - the same as I wore in middle school.
I see pants that are too tight on boys, like we saw in the eighties.
I see boots not as cute as Nancy Sinatras or or go-go-boots.
Masks are the new fashion statement for the younger generation sadly.
Unicycle’s silly;
it’s sure fun to ride.
Best is when it’s hilly;
mud just makes you slide.
It’s sure fun to ride
unless it’s quite chilly.
Then, I can confide,
inside’s better really.
Best is when it’s hilly;
I know ‘cuz I’ve tried.
I’m better than Billy;
he just cried and cried.
Mud just makes you slide,
go all willy nilly.
Hard pack lets you glide
frisky as a filly.
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This is a Quadrilew (6A:5B:6A:5B 5B:6a:5b:6a 6A:5b:6a:5b 5B:6a:5b:6a) where the lines in the first stanza are used as the first line of the next 3 stanzas. The line length either alternates as 6/5/6/5 or 5/6/5/6. Kinda fun!
Note: no animals were maimed in the writing of this poem