Long Antarctic Poems
Long Antarctic Poems. Below are the most popular long Antarctic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Antarctic poems by poem length and keyword.
Hope
A frail boat our life is in the middle
Of a tempestuous ocean,
An exotic blooming flower,
In an ever-burning desert,
A fruit-bearing tree, rooted,
At the heart of solid rock,
A delicate existence, surviving,
At the top of the Antarctic,
That is why constantly we are searching for:
A calm friendly harbor of understanding
To anchor,
Some precious drops of vivifying water
To quench our thirst,
A few priceless pounds of soil
To plant our hungry roots,
A sparkle of life-giving fire
To reanimate our frozen body,
And surprisingly,
We discover all these treasures
Hidden, in the depths of our indomitable soul,
In the form of ever-living Hope!
© Demetrios Trifaitis
30 November 2012
The frustration rises, like bile
To fill my chest
I feel a knot in my stomach
A pit of vipers writhing.
The eyes are watching my every move
As I feel I can’t do right
For doing wrong.
I can’t put my finger on it
Yet I know it’s not real.
I know in my logical mind
That I am worthy, I am just,
A work horse well-laden with responsibilities.
Still plays the stuck 78
In the back of my head
‘They will find you out’
‘They will see you as you are’.
Extremities ache with fear,
The constant need to move
Before the pain returns,
To sharpen my anxiety
To mock me.
I can’t put my finger on it
But the feeling remains
Imposter syndrome doesn’t even cover it
How each action fells
As negative as the depths
Of an Antarctic winter.
Nausea waves, my feet crippled
Their need to move
Yet wracked with debilitation.
Why do I feel this guilt
This vomit inducing
Tear rendering guilt
That one day they will see me
Just as I am.
Realise I’m not who they thought I was.
I have been hiding in plain sight.
A spectre at the feast.
For now I have to carry on,
Pushing through
Worker harder than ever
But feeling retrograde motion.
This is true anxiety,
The unfounded,
The unjustified
The undefinable
I just can’t put my finger on it.
“Sea wants me to return to
conch shell from whence I was born
Here comforted I can curl away from boisterous hurls..” Poet, from poem : Sea Wants Me
~~~~~~ Diaries
dreaming waves soothing spuming whales
holy grail beyond blue BLUE
no language voice your reflective transformations
from ripples to tortuous tsunamis
brushing coasts >> Asia’s edge, Madagascar’s spine
Africa, Australia, Antarctic
paddles settling into breath of dusk
Ocean of personas holographic oiled, gassed !
you croon about awakened ports, ship l a n e s
along turquoise tongues of poets
as we refuge take in your sleepless depths
drifting without compass towards
unknown horizons blue Blue BLUE~~~~~***
becoming liquid caverns, fragranced coral reefs
ocean chasms sprout dolphin verses for India,
China, Indonesia, tube sea urchins chant Beloved ! Anchor Anchor >>>>B E L oVed
Beloved ! slack tectonic plates consider their next yawn ___? Or groan
shells rumbling
storms, tidal depths, oysters whisper antidotes
not to dismiss, peering into Poseidon's mist
wizardry seafloor volcanoes
rhyme surrender or diving away fetid fears
with ancient angling coelacanths dear near
blue you suffer toxicities as we extract nourishing bounties with vile human hash !
wilderness of WONDER selflessness we cannot
negate, swimming echoed
eternal Truth
SEISMIC MOTHER INDIAN
O C E A N …O C E A N …..~~~~~....{}{}
we gurgle……()[][]~~~ as resonated vibrations
Varunani rises teal stillness untrophied
You AWE us hiding Neptune's bugle ~~~~~~~~
I’ve been looking at a map of the world...
upside down.
The Mercator version just doesn’t sit right with me.
Old Chinese maps once were oriented
East to North.
Many ancients envisioned
North to be South.
When I look at the map upside down
it all makes sense.
The East now looks a lot like
an obese dragon throwing up
clumps of green fur-balls.
A Godzilla-like Britain,
now dangles into the Antarctic
Its nether regions emasculated
by the slow nibble
of immigrant crustaceans.
Europe and Russia as always, seem to be
carpet bombing the sky.
Africa, well Africa is still Africa,
only now it looks like a turd
in the process of being purged.
Australia on the other hand
looks like the United States,
a place where kangaroos
bounce in a slomo Texan rodeo.
Florida’s limp dick situation
is now flagrantly erect.
Any piddling little country
can now be orientated
at the middlemost point of the globe.
However, the Great State of Ohio
looms large
and still remains deeply significant.
The rest of the world
radiates away from California
as Walt Disney always intended.
It’s a secret only known to NASA
but astronauts who circle the globe,
on return,
have to be reeducated,
or forever struggle
to keep walking upon the ceiling.
Ten million years from now when we become mature
When Earth rotates much slower around a faded sun
Turned orange with flares of yellow visible to the eye
People will find true love in their metallic selves
Seven fingers will emerge to manage many tasks
To hold the hands of alien partners from the stars
From the past the moon will have moved on by then
An oval shape in orbit forever traveling with indifference
Beyond our reach and touch in favor of the elliptic distance
Elegant on the horizon, elongated on the dawn
Brains will grow larger over time to think
To form into blue crystal fluid usage machines
Five million years farther into the future to the second
On a Saturday evening in late September at 8:00 pm
Tardigrades will merge with human metallic beings
Deep inside the womb where symbioses matters happen
Evolution allows mankind to orbit about themselves
In the vast design to form a more perfect mechanism
Encrypted for their desired use into the future
An unforgiving sun burns on at the core
Looks down on us no more or less than human
In nature all things take their course
In five million years or more
Note: Tardigrades (water bears) are small, really tiny, actually micro animals with segmented bodies. They are usually water-dwelling creatures but can be found in a myriad of places like Antarctic ice, deep in ocean beds to a depth of 14,000 ft, high up in Himalayas at a height of 20,000 ft, tree barks, moss and more! Virtually indestructible, capable of surviving a direct nuclear bomb blast.
Global warning
The boy was climbing up a tree, his mother, from the kitchen window,
shouted, if you fall down and break a leg don´t come running to me.
They are opening up a super coal mine in Britain despite they know about
global warming.
It is only this mine the government says, we have to give people work,
we know this is not true it is done for profit; it is about a few dollars more,
The workers to turn a blind eye food on the table and beer in the pub.
The Ice on the Antarctic melts showing dark in unfertile mountains.
The sea lever rises green tropical island drowns and the people
have nowhere to go becoming refugees.
Relentless the sea level rises filling mines with water drowning the unlucky
near the coast, the elite move higher sure of their survival.
Finally, they reach the top of the mountain there is nowhere else to go.
They pray to God who says you have been warned don´t come running to me.
My life changed forever after Xavier told me the following news
He told me he wanted to join me in the Australasian Antarctic Expedition
He was highly recommended- his offer, I just couldn't refuse
To make this journey one must be in top physical condition
Xavier, myself... and Belgrave (Cherub) Ninnis a Greenland Husky dog trainer set sail
Aboard the Sy Aurora with forty-eight dogs we sailed to Hobart
Every piece of equipment, clothing and necessity had to be top-notch and full-scale
Drinking alcohol and smoking were a no-no... off chart
On November 10th, we skied to the first site- Aladdin's Cave
Whilst on the trail, blizzard conditions separated Ninnis from me and Xavier
Forty-two of the huskies we're killed by avalanche, only six could we save
And little did we know that Ninnis would be gone; forever
Xavier and I and the six remaining huskies went through our food supply very fast
Until we had no choice, so, one-by-one... we ate the dogs
I ask myself- "Am I the blame of what happened in the past?
Or- was it all of our fault for not checking our travelogues
I am Douglas Mawson, and I am the only survivor of the three
Yes, my life had changed when I lost my friends forever
Remember them as you read through my autobiography
And rest assure, I will not forget my days with them- never
OCEAN BOTTOM VIEWED-
On that day my soul grew midstream, midstream;
I threw my Antarctic upon the floor;
They are perfumed from unseen sunken breams;
There Venusians underscored treasures;
Act all that’s from out my heart does measures;
Oceans surrounding submissive pleasures;
~
I heard domestic, marine oiling;
My smallmouth bass, I could not awaken;
Seas crave the endogenous, temps boiling;
Sharp tooth sharks swim for fish for the taken;
Darken shadowed waters covered stricken;
Sea starfish broke dead floating silken;
~
In their stepped a vibratory sea bass;
Shark bite, I crave the saturnine south seas;
An echo from ocean floor hollered back;
Above and below ocean mangrove trees;
Also threw my whiting on the shore of seas;
Was a standout, breakout stout watery breeze?
~
When thinking of underwater ocean
Acts seaweed in liquid torrent motion?
6/4/19
Your Choice, Any Form, Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
I am reminded as I look to this bell
with Penola inscribed upon it in brass
of heritage to which it testifies well.
Sixteen men borne over the ocean to vast
wide wastes of white wilderness, there to explore
Antarctic channels, glaciers and savage coasts.
There among penguins and seals were many more
fauna, and features to chart in icy blasts
from sledges pulled by dogs over frozen ground.
Journals and artefacts have yet more to tell
of explorers by a common purpose bound,
held safe in that schooner, their home with its bell.
Grandsons are lifted to ring it yet again,
re-sounding remote ventures of these great men.
Crunch
by Michael R. Burch
A cockroach could live nine months on the dried mucous you scrounge from your nose
then fling like seedplants to the slowly greening floor ...
You claim to be the advanced life form, but, mon frere,
sometimes as you snatch encrusted kinks of hair from your Leviathan ass
and muse softly on zits, icebergs snap off the Antarctic.
You’re an evolutionary quandary, in need of a sacral ganglion
to control your enlarged, contradictory hindquarters:
surely the brain should migrate closer to its primary source of information,
in order to ensure the survival of the species.
Cockroaches thrive on eyeboogers and feces;
their exoskeletons expand and gleam like burnished armor in the presence of uranium.
But your cranium
is not nearly so adaptable.
“Crunch” is a poem about evolution and survival of the fittest which questions where human beings really are the planet earth’s most advanced life forms. Keywords/Tags: evolution, global warming, climate change, pollution, insect, insects, cockroach, cockroaches, advance life form, survival of the fittest, adaptability, animal, animals, environment, world, America