Long Ammonia Poems
Long Ammonia Poems. Below are the most popular long Ammonia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ammonia poems by poem length and keyword.
The promise to hold hands and reach the altitude
fades more for no treasure to be found
initially started in the playground of happiness
now ending with nothing to covet
the affection’s oven is wrecked to produce watery bread
a beautiful bargain, ending with a series of slaps
either one is tired or both are reckless
soft hearts of gold, carrying heavy daggers
turns sour and the only thing left of the union is bile
the broken bond falls to the ground as ugly pieces
ammonia, coming out from what was once functional
the day the pages of their love started getting missing
was the time the diary shortened and thrown to be forgotten.
Dark red, luscious apples felled from her own tree long ago
Under the beaming sun plummeted with a soft, aching blow
The sweat drips and plops, scruple over a furrowed brow
Upon the discovery of rot that blackened her plow
“Has the wind gone mad–or am I the one insane?
Dirt and grime, high dry–surely the only way to explain”
Denial among hatred, she could not face–but under the murk, bits
Beneath, the snakes–surly and shabby—placed high their bids
The heat danced faster as the days passed far less paced
Her blonde hair bleached and pruned, but left one space
The temple on her right seemed blank and bruised
As a failed blow far too long past was nearly used
The magazine fell as she begins filtering the rot past her mind
She screams, shouts, yelps and cries, sobs of an animal forgotten by time
“I never meant for this to go–go and blow up like this!
I never meant. . . I never meant for me to hurt our kids.”
Too far from gone she was, behind silken white bars and drenched in ammonia
“I know, my love, but I must leave and forget you—may heaven forbid us, Aurora”
2000 miles is a long way, and 50 plus years is a very long time.
It spells the time and space that have separated me and my two best
childhood friends. Back then, whether it was hay, ammonia, cowboys,
sling shots, or rubber tires, somewhere in the mix were my two friends.
Presently, there is a loving memory of Dennis and Johnnie. They were
absolutely my best childhood friends and everyday playmates. Dennis
was called "My terrible looking friend" because he never kept clean.
Johnnie was the toughest of the three of us.
One of the beautiful things about friendship is that 'the institution
of friendship' ever grows and thrives. That is to say that we lose some
and gain others. The losses are not by design but simply a fact of life.
My friendship with Dennis and Johnnie, by no plan or purpose, discontinued.
Life happens and forces us in different directions. But new friends appear.
Relatively new friends like Ruhtra Serrot, who is a very good friend.
Compared to Dennis and Johnnie, I have not known him for very long.
I think that I have known Ruhtra less than ten years.
Some friendships develop and mature over time.
Some others seem to defy the very essence of time.
They form and fashion themselves into 'deep roots'.
That's the type of friendship that I am experiencing
with my friend Ruhtra. I'd say that he is 'Rare Air'.
All due respect for those who believe in luck, but I believe that friends
are a blessing from God, and still others are 'Special Gifts' from God.
I and my family have been gifted with such friends, and they are rare.
080222PSCtest,
I am going swimming I told the man.
Don’t go to Dominica, he said.
You’ll boil up as if you are in a pan.
I thought he was nuts, but I read up.
They do have a boiling lake.
So I turned over my cup.
The coffee dripped onto the world map and then
I had an inkling to swim in Texas or Ak-Sar-Ben
Jacob’s well sounded great with its underground cave,
But my auntie told me it had been a recent grave.
Apparently many die down there
When they get intrigued and forget to come up for air.
The coffee had slithered across the map pretty good.
What about the Nile? I asked. Fun for sure, if I could.
Crocodiles will kill you, but go anyway, said brother Lee.
He has always wanted my bedroom, you see.
The Amazon? I queried, looking at their smug, eager faces.
Piranhas and barracudas, my dad was grinning with braces.
Don’t go to the blue lagoon, said my sister Petonia.
The alkalinity rate makes it as caustic as ammonia.
Gulf of Thailand? I asked, watching the coffee seep.
Sure if you want a box jelly fish to stab you deep.
Their sting is so horrible you die of shock.
I decided to swim locally then. I am now standing at the dock.
Staring at the water, wondering about sharks and such.
My feet cringe as I tap them on the top, barely a touch.
I envision an alligator swishing my body away to eat.
I go home, run the faucet, and soak in glorious heat.
Oxygen saturates the skies breathing fresh air in my lungs and helium resting on my shoulders beckoning the universe to come. You can see hydrogen running down the street with pressure mounting in its knees and two atoms fasten together to solve the oracle before summer.
Formula O is standing strong with oxides buried beneath the earth’s crust, the animals depend on it and human cannot live without it. The plants cannot survive if they don’t get it. Formula O is getting scarce as the heat is raging in the atmosphere, respiration has come to a standstill and the sun is burning up all the beautiful daffodils.
N2 the diatomic gas filling the atmosphere with all that it’s got. Plenty of it is found in the solar system and sometimes it makes the lights grow dim. You can find plenty of it in the Milky Way and you can find it screaming in your DNA; the RNA has it too and it saturates in energy deducted from molecule.
I can see the cycle moving in the atmosphere and the birds are running around in despair, the sun is casting shadow on the ground, you have to know which path to run.
Ammonia acid, organic nitrates and cyanides, containing nitrogen is shouting from the cockpit and nitric acid, is waiting for you at the boarding gate so get the grey hound, the Caine, German Shepherd, Border Collie, Belgian Milionis, and Labrador Retrievers at the boarding gate before it is too late.
No confusion or disruption just gets a team of unmarked security to conduct this operation and disconnect the cords discreetly.
Many compounds are erected from the ground and industrial fertilizer is all around; they pollute the water system, block your drain and are causing pain but the tranquil skies are smiling at me.
The tranquil sky is releasing good amounts of energy so absorb it before it is fades; remove the obstacle and get rid of the debacle, and when the day is done you and I will have fun, when you throw your ring in my “cap” that will be a wonderful plot.
2000 miles is a long ways, and 50 plus years is a very long time.
It spells the time and space that have separated me and my two friends.
Back then, whether it was hay, ammonia, cowboys, sling shots, or rubber tires,
somewhere in the mix were my two friends. Presently, there is a loving memory of Dennis and Johnnie. They were absolutely my best childhood friends and everyday playmates. Dennis was called "My terrible looking friend" because he never kept clean. Johnnie was the toughest of the three of us.
The above mentioned items of danger and fun are forever tied to their memory. Whether running from an ammonia tank gone bananas or rolling rubber tires; whether playing cowboys, rolling and jumping in the hay barn, or yelling loudly in a tall rusty structure, we three did it together like three vegetable peas in a hull.
On my next memory page, I see a metal fence under which Dennis tried to trawl in his attempt to escape the wrath of my two brothers, who came to my defense for something that Dennis had done to me. He never made it, and my brothers started to beat on him as they beckoned me to join them in the fighting feast. I demanded that they let him go, and until now, I'm getting a picture of Dennis' face being so relieved from my brothers' beating. I didn't hear him, and don't remember talking about it, but Dennis must have said, "What A Friend". He certainly was mine.
031121PSCtest, I Remember, Malabika Ray Choudhury; 2P
Just one dusk at the terminus,
the hourglass will shatter.
No more pain,
no more suffering,
just the silence
of a penance without sentence.
My feelings,
a procession of punishments.
My condolences
to all those victims
who drowned their vigilance
in the bowels of negligence.
No allegiance
to the urgencies of decadence.
The decay of my celestial spark
sanctifies its own downfall.
I am nothing but a coffin
of indelible scars,
bound to vanish into the darkness of the void.
I have known
the insolence of opulence.
I have tasted
the delights of misery.
My impure hands
have strangled innocence,
far from the spotlight
of condescension.
They learned
to cut hard drugs
to beautify the nightmares
of ill-omened birds.
I still have ammonia
in my brain,
baking soda
on my knuckles.
I learned
to handle weapons of war
in pine-covered forests.
I still smile
when I hear a Kalashnikov
sing the sinister symphonies
of retaliation.
I’ve never pleaded guilty
nor howled beneath flashing lights.
I absorbed
all the lessons of omertà
and the laws of the penal code.
My hair turned white
on a body battered
by irreversible damage.
I wish annihilation
upon all my enemies,
declared or disguised.
I adore darkness,
like those condemned
on death row.
I grew up
in the paradise of savagery,
under a bleak sky.
I bicker every day
with the devil,
over the rent
for my place in hellfire.
A few broken hearts.
My offspring
are scattered across the Earth.
I am a Sub-Saharan immigrant,
in love with freedom.
I did not come
to spread the good news
of brotherhood.
My phallus is circumcised
and I don’t eat pork—
just like Christ.
No money,
no equality:
humans
are not all equal,
even if the reaper
resets the counters to zero.
I am eloquent and elegant
like my demons.
I’ve traumatized my ghosts
with the clarity of a psychopath
with sociopathic ambitions.
I love to change time zones
for sunny beaches,
when the accounts are in the green.
I’ve had the chance
to wander across four continents.
I am a chameleon
with skin rich in melanin.
I am not intelligent,
I’ve just travelled a lot.
Piles upon piles of dust and mold
Gather in a large closet up in the attic,
Where junk of memorabilia resides
Untouched for years as I scan the heap
Of treasures accumulated: a prom's corsage
At 17, shelves of dresses, high-heels that
Tell me now I have grown four sizes larger!
Paperbacks circa 1980, eaten by bugs
from a Literature nerd in grade school...
Journals theater souvenirs looking like
Fossilized antiques from medieval ages,
Along with broken Parker pens and oil
Tubes defying a frustrated artist,
With drawers of lace, beads, threads
As glue guns ( in yellow) stick on interior- design
Folders: then to reach out for music records;
Dollars saved in a jar as a novice in advertising:
Oh the thongs , underwear kept in cedar boxes--
A vision of dates with sleek metro princes,
Discoing on till they turn into wimpy frogs...
How chlorine scent jams my nostrils as I clear
The unwanted pile-- mounds of pile that
Stain my dingy face my hair a rocker's mop.
Die as I flood you with ammonia !
Not the keepsakes...but those stinking fungi!
3/2/2017
Unwanted Guest Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
We think we are many, but there are billions of them
Species so different, they so out number us men
Then came that day when natures parameters changed
Something out there happened to us humans so strange
Whether they were robins, starlings, vultures or crows
She's had enough, for the birds she now chose
Formidable they became as they attacked in masses
Wave after wave in lacerated passes
No one was spared, whether mother or child
Some were found, bloodied but smiled
For many months the world has endured
Us facing survival outside we are lured
Ammonia traces as they leave their marks
Reminding who's in charge, the future of humans so stark
If you are fortunate to survive, look to the skies
They followed the geese, their formation to strive
For those of us who are left, underground we reside
If we are to change, it's up to us to decide
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-15.php
MEOW Cats
MEOW Cats, In a kingdom full of pups;
There amongst us;
Was the barking of German Sheppard?
MEOW Cats
And the kittens never whelping;
In a kingdom full of pups;
My, my, my look up, look up;
MEOW Cats
Only this and a spring caterpillar;
Traveling through the spring litter;
Droppings of odor and despair;
What rocks this litter-box?
So toxic
MEOW Cats
Notation of ammonia in the air;
And the parakeets never chatting;
There stepped a young rodent;
Chased got caught and eaten by the cat;
What a death twas, for the young rat;
Imagine this… imagine that;
I heard a deep, deep sighing;
Yum yum ouch!!
Says the mouse rat;
Cats, cats!
MEOW Cats ate all the mice and rats
2/13/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020