Long Amphibious Poems

Long Amphibious Poems. Below are the most popular long Amphibious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Amphibious poems by poem length and keyword.


Summers Everlasting

Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding 
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
 a hundred days like this 
   a sea of endless laughs rolling 
     like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic

Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
  personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
  condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
    
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
  chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
  wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
  intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
  smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
     mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
   ...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!

Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
 These sparrow serenaded mornings..
  ...morphing into something amphibious 
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy 
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
 splashing back to cool off in sandbars
   coolers anchored in those cool waters
     taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken

Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
  Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
 ...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
  heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
    lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...

The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
  squaks are replaced with crickets chirps 
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
  Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
 
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
  we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
 creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
  sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
    
 

Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!


Premium Member Purple Paradise

I feel my ears pop,
As the light above me increases ...
Columns of purple sunshine shimmer and dance.
I swim up out of the cool, inky blackness of the depths,

And finally reach the surface, head bobbing like a balloon,
Frilly slits on my neck closing up and sealing, as I switch to breathing air.
I suck the thick oxygen atmosphere deep into my lungs, then exhale.
The detritus from my gills comes up with the first breath, and I spit it away,

(Small creatures that follow me, gobble it up hungrily ... nothing wasted).
I need not struggle swimming on the surface here -
The water's high saline level helps me float without effort,
So I lay back and stretch, relaxing my length, as if in a chaise lounge.

The bright purple sky dances with clouds, (and a couple of bright stars),
Two blood-red suns now low, nearing the horizon.
Though they never set, they do crimp the reach for many hours,
Before climbing again to make the sky near-blue.

Clouds are rarely white, (only when the suns are high),
But vary in shades from crimson to pink,
Again, depending on the time of day and moisture content.
I live above AND below the water here ...

My genetic alterations, (very expensive, thus),
Allow me to extract oxygen from air and water, easily transitioning.
I have long webbed toes and fingers to swim speedily,
Eyes that can detect ultraviolet and infrared,

And something similar to sonar, that I can search the depths with,
And also use to tap into the communication satellites,
As well as send personal messages to others here such as I,
Who have chosen the amphibious life of this purple planet.

I have a house back on the island, with all amenities,
But I rarely go there, choosing instead to spend most of my time
On or near the water, searching the depths for the edibles,
Or sleeping on the beach under the stars,

Composing music and poetry during the day, or visiting friends.
I send my work out onto the inter-world web,
It earns me enough to remain comfortable ... and happy.
But what I love the most, are the other intelligent creatures here ...

Most are "sea" dwellers, but all are non-aggressive.
Learning the language of each will take a lifetime,
But it is a labor of love, with joyous reward ...
Friendship!

Fraught With Ibs Irritable Bowel Syndrome

Fraught With IBS Irritable Bowel Syndrome...

Rear lee if ever suffices as an apt poetic title
amidst bookish canon - while
this writer (similar to other aspirants
in their respective creative pursuits)
aware arbitrary perusers may deem vile

core body of voluntary selective readers
mentally affix probationary trial
before unequivocally gravitating
toward my genre or signature style,
which unique modality
of expression eventually

accruing some degree of popularity
affecting unseen frown or smile
nonetheless, accepting, enjoying,
and tolerating how I playfully rile
aware that anonymous reader's
patience can wear thin relegating mine

worded persona on par with a reptile
unknowingly breaking fragile bond,
hence she/he might not reconcile
without awareness a valuable kinship,
dismiss me as puerile,
thus forsaking tenuous link, one

that may never bare tangible fruition,
yet all along self scrutiny occurs to refine
thy cerebral thought provoking profile
also intimating months gone by bias
arises toward my
figurative handily prehensile

expansive vocabulary, could
(and/or does) rank as a pile
of unpleasant gluteus maximus
sphincter muscle missile
imposing effort to tone down exuberant,
flamboyant, and gallant mercantile

flashing blindingly exasperatingly, 
and inflamingly nauseating vocabulary,
not deliberately juvenile
but this luxe lavish embellishment
a labor of (lost) love with English
Language (inherent since...

in utero), thus...infantile
asper taking shape without conscious
deliberation, though imbecile
appellation possibly affixed
as lasting impression,
perhaps even engendering hostile,

whereat no effort to exhort
unconditional acceptance of me guile
will transpire, cuz this chap
recognizes how tenuously fragile,
the online choice to remain a steadfast
virtual friendship quintessentially fissile

oft times casting the notion how facile
mine arrangement springs from one
core textured intellectual domicile
that houses persona of one docile
amphibious descendent, whose forebear,
yes twas a crocodile!

Malevolent Mental Maelstrom

inside me cranium 
toady, an amphibious December 19th   
twenty twenty one sinisterly drum
intonating forty five orbitz one bum
graduated as hard school  of knocks alum. 

Fiendish and gruesome phantasmagoric denizens
dwell deep inside subterranean vault 
perform an evil dance
haunt psychic landscape 
with imaginary (yet realistic)
gargoyle visitations cast macabre trance
nocturnal unconscious invaders 
cavort and gallivant 
disturb quiescent sleep 
with devilish and sinister prance. 

Apparitions crept stealthily 
into peaceful slumber receptacle
repository whence illusory 
landscape of dreams
take place to rejuvenate 
exhausted body, mind and spirit triage
rent asunder blissful sleep with 
a startled fright
cold sweat drenched 
nighttime garments and bedding
teeth chattered uncontrollably
heart pounded loudly inside chest 
nightmarish phantoms wrought 
an awful ghoulish sight.

Mushroom cloud anniversary triggered 
frenzied gargantuan hallucination
seventy six plus years ago today inauguration 
into atomic age took place
one country after another sought 
to acquire demonic and destruction devices
maintain self-preservation in  
surreal atomic weapons race
impossible to escape the dark threat  
looms and threatens life on Earth
one launched missile spells extermination 
9.
across entire global space.

No escape from humankind military machines 
munitions march mean madness 
and guaranteed demise to all life
*****Sapiens violent history of bias, 
intolerance and/or prejudice 
characterizes vicious warfare 
and chronic species strife
unaffordable legacy for future 
(and perhaps alien) archeologists,
who will sift thru civilization debris 
with delicate knife.

Artifacts buried in a heap 
of pulverized and radioactive ash
civilization monuments 
and hedonistic symbols 
gone in a blinding brilliant flash
irksome flotsam and jetsam 
spewed into outer space
alien nations light years distant 
collect miniscule bits and pieces 
offer object lesson as extinction for beings 
that become excessively brash.
Form: Rhyme

Robert Louis Curl

I quickly joined the Navy on June the 4th, 1943,  
As soon as I graduated at 17, life was definitely to be;
I received boot training in the state of Maryland, 
At Bainbridge, became a navigator noble and grand. 

I was sent to Amphibious Training wet, phew wee,  
At Little Creek in Virginia, where I got my crew,
Of different ranks including machinists as gunners,
The craft was 56-foot, our rations made us stunners.

But I was separated from my crew, went to Plymouth, 
In England, placed on a Liberty ship used to house, 
Replacement cargo for artillery that got destroyed, 
Which was so much longer than the crafts deployed. 

In Fahnouth England, I memorised Normandy maps, 
Prepared and used a Reflectoscope to turn on the taps;
We were scared of poison gas when we hit Omaha, 
I was quarantined on June 1st of ’44, needed mama.

We saved many from the crafts using cargo nets sublime, 
But they were difficult to climb in the rough seas, crime,  
A craft almost mounted the ship ‘cos of a high wave, 
And always we had to be steely and very, very brave.

The bombs from the Nazi’s were the size of footballs, 
And we painstakingly recovered many bodies, stalls, 
From the water which had just beaten them cruelly, 
And that first D-Day morning we were losing brutally. 

The Germans hedgehogs, or bombs for the landing crafts, 
Fired on us from a pillbox, but in my case American staff, 
Took my attacking pillbox out, and I was just so grateful, 
‘Cos it was causing me havoc ‘cos I almost felt too awful. 

Luckily that night two German planes simply just avoided us, 
After a few days we did hydrographic 3D printing work, suss,
For which I was commended, I contributed to today’s 3D printing
Then I lead the invasion of southern France, which was amazing. 

The Panama Canal saw me on a rocket ship headed for Japan, 
But the A-Bomb ended the war, and we went state-side to tan, 
My Honourable Discharge was in March of ’46, and I was quick,
To get back to my peacetime activities, but never forgot the sick.


Man In a Suitcase

MAN   IN    A    SUITCASE

Used to joke  how Gregory Peck  was my father                   
But never knew why I was called Sydney.                                             
Or why  Australia’s city was named after me -                       
And a dozen other cities around the world  farther.              

My dad surely was where mum’s love-treasure  was spent,   
But died before I was born  and before they could marry.      
Her family hated this guy but she was  tough, didn’t worry,          
And named me after the man for whom she was meant.        
     
She never discussed  her  feelings buried, 
Showed  no photos, never talked about him to me.      
Broken hearted I guess.   Who wouldn’t be?
I never knew  the man she would have married.

I didn’t really cotton  to  the name I had.
I preferred  Alan or Steve or maybe Vincent
And a dozen other names  meant  for a gent,
Regardless of who may have been my dad.

I  also disliked the name for its ambiguity,  this name Sydney
-  Sort of amphibious.  A name in American movies - for women,
It could swim across the ocean and in British movies - for men,  
(Always  small-time crooks who were chirpy and cockney).

No, I never liked the name.  It wasn’t  worth a jitney
To me;  and I used other nicknames for many a year,
It was only used in mockery for it was relatively rare.
Even today,  “Syd”  is ok;  but please, never call me “Sydney”

But I found a  dusty  old suitcase and lifted its lid  
After she passed away.   Her life’s  treasurechest, 
And out rolled some  gold,  photo of old soldier dressed
In uniform: he looked like me:  the name on back  was  Syd.

That moment  -  Damascus Road - change of heart.
Now,  proud to have it, say it, hear it.  Nicknames I forbid.
I like it  especially when my loving wife  says  “Syd”  
Now with this name  I’d never part.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Written for Linda-Marie’s contest  WHAT’S  IN  A  NAME?

Soundless Blinding Blitzkrieg Wrought Disarray

Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe

hunkers down deep amidst disarray
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,

albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely

truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened

erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones

courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death

i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo

beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo

sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,

and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail 
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible 
battle scars attest

successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!

Premium Member Hms Detention

That old wooden box that we nailed to a plank
The pram in the ditch that required a good yank
All that we needed was front and back wheels
We wouldn’t need brakes for we had rubber heels

The front wheels we fixed with some bent-over nails
At that point we didn’t think we would need sails
The back wheels meant even more nails needed bending
And soon there’d be holes in our jeans needing mending
For steering we tied on a length of old rope
I still wonder now how that rope never broke

At the brow of the hill with a push for a start
I lost all control of that ramshackle cart
I laugh at it now, for the memory’s fond
I wasn’t amused when I ditched in the pond

To save face I said that that’s what I intended
And then said my cart racing exploits have ended
For here there’s an ‘ocean’ and here there is wood
So let’s build a boat and let’s build it real good

We mounted a mast with a very big nail
And Grandma’s best bath towel was used as a sail
From Granddaddy’s shed some string gave it tension
And then I said this boat I name ‘The Detention’

We’d left all the wheels on, it looked kinda hideous
But I wasn’t daft, I had made it amphibious
Our boat’s maiden voyage now had to ensue
But this time, for ballast, I grabbed me a crew

I yelled ‘All aboard’ and me and my brother
Set off with Freddie… (the head is his mother)
If I had been older I’d claim I was drunk
When we hit the water the bloody thing sunk

Covered in mud we smelt like a latrine
And I said ‘Hey lads, it’s a submarine’
But we knew the head wouldn’t be too amused 
And soon in her office we all stood accused

She spoke in a tone that you might call sardonic
Our naval past includes vessels iconic
Your boat has made Freddie look like a drowned rat
You called it ‘Detention’… that’s ironic that


10 November 2021
For A Noteworthy ship contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
Form: Rhyme

Soundless Blinding Blitzkrieg

Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe

hunkers down deep
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,

albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely

truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened

erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones

courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death

i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo

beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo

sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,

and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail 
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible 
battle scars attest

successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!

Inside D Day

INSIDE D DAY
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


The weather is really lousy rained all day
I’m so nervous and edgy, I’m learning to pray
We are prepped and ready to complete our tasks
Now’s the moment, the hour, for the invasion of France 
My buddy tall and skinny, we call him Guana
From some little town near Birmingham, Alabama

He talks funny with a southern nasal drawl
I’m from Pittsburgh, he’s teaching me to say yall
It’s 3 AM and I haven’t slept well for several days
Fully geared, scared, but with a positive gaze
Brother graduated high school may enlist this summer 
Heard the last word a dying man says is mama

There’s 24 men in this landing craft, all are grim
Knowing survival of an amphibious landing is slim 
Heads down, you’ll get a good look soon enough
I’m wondering how many will die scaling that bluff
Our section of beach has the code name Omaha
Noise, sirens, destroyer firing a constant pah, pah, pah

Racing to shore, any moment, a need to quickly disembark
I wonder if the red roses are blooming at Columbus Park?
There’s incoming ordinance, you hear it pinging on the boat
When I exit, if it’s too deep, I’ll drop everything, so I can float
The boat has stopped, quite a distance from the shore
Heart pounding, mouth bone dry, awaiting, drop of the door

I look at my buddies, all silent, some their eyes closed
Lips moving, a rosary, the hope of survival fully exposed
We’ve trained for this exercise over and over again
If we disembark rapidly, we won’t lose too many men
Door drops, men begin exiting, lives hanging on a thread 
Wading their way to the shore thru the dying and dead

Got to the beach, looking for cover,  I see my friend Guana
Suddenly I’m looking up at the sky: Did I come this far to die?
My thoughts all go childhood, I can only think of  my mama
Form: Rhyme

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