Long Attempts Poems
Long Attempts Poems. Below are the most popular long Attempts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Attempts poems by poem length and keyword.
School gets out at one o’clock instead of three-thirty.
The teenagers drive around the town square, cuddled up.
Parents are calling to make sure they are wearing coats.
Grandmas are making chili, and grandpas are snoozing.
They picture their grandchildren home, safely drinking cider.
The air is frigid cold; no one should be out here.
Faces turn red in seconds, lips are chapped.
Teenagers are laughing, inside warm vehicles,
Twirling around on black ice, sliding into bushes
Small animals wish they were hibernating. Their feet freezing.
Icicles hang from the front of houses, glistening and blinking.
Frost on top of snow makes it dazzle like rhinestones
The blue white of the ground is lovely enough to make you cry.
Children are arguing with their parents, wanting to be out there.
Most come in within minutes, after realizing how brittle the wind is.
Others have to wait until they can barely walk on frostbitten toes.
Faces are pressed to windows, watching squirrels scurry.
One lone black dog attempts to walk across the snow
In a labored way, making slow progress
Mom and Dad are cooking pizzas, speaking of their own snow days
The youngest children are listening, attempting to relate
The others are looking at pictures of California on their I-phones
Snow Day 2020 is not so terribly different than Snow Day 1964
Snowdrifts, black ice, freezing rain on top of snow, interstates closed.
Making a memory as children begin frosting snowflake sugar cookies.
I don't have the same stamina as a young man,
some girls look away and others say, " Sir! "
Is that because I am aging and losing my hair;
lately I've been wearing a cap, but they still grin!
Is Rogain the solution and the end to my frustration?
Will it be worthwhile to grow a full head of hair
and fool myself that I defy age and receive flair?
Why hate myself...instead of getting rid of pretention?
I can feel better accepting myself reaching maturity
without those silly attempts of turning the clock back;
I had my glory: memorable days full of laughter and vitality,
let others begin their journey and not end up a lonely Jack!
Copyright ( c ) 2015 by Andrew Crisci
Jesus became a curse for those-
All who call upon His name.
He died for our sin, then arose,
Our lives He fought to reclaim.
Isaiah 53 foretold
His commitment to God's will.
He has removed sin's stranglehold,
Thus, fulfilling God's goodwill.
Jesus is the Way and the Life,
The path that guides and sustains,
When fear and trials are causing strife,
For temptation still remains.
Yet nothing like sin's stranglehold,
For the sinner's curse remains.
Its end always the way of death-
Man's works won't remove sin-stains.
His attempts to defeat the curse,
Just makes his punishment worse.
Though quoted both chapter and verse,
He clings to what is perverse.
"Because of their temerity,
The innocent reap distress.
I curse them for barbarity,
But their victims I will bless."
"I heard your prayer for a curse-
Just cause and faith attended.
Your request, I am not averse-
Space to repent rescinded.
I will stir their greed and malice
And cause their schemes to collapse.
With hearts and minds hardened, callous,
I'll bait them into My traps.
The empty fig tree stands smirking-
Its leaders have turned beastly.
Watch them to see its outworking-
Watch them ruined completely."
Where are you?
My search takes me everywhere
I find nothing
Moving through the maze of life
Hope guides me
But grows weak with time
Who are you?
Someone from the past
Or the future
The hardest question to answer
I wait for the answer
But where will it come from
Two souls moving through existence
Are you searching as well
You ask where am I?
I’m neither here nor there
Lost in thought
But I wait eyes, heart and mind open
Will you arrive
Or will we forever be lost
Who am I?
I often ask myself the same question
The answer also complicated
Yet I’m simple
A person of few needs
You are one of those
Looking for direction from you
Where are you?
Another one of my first attempts at poetry. I sent this to myself on June 4 2012, so it was written around that time. It was another attempt to leave the sonnet and venture into free verse. I didn't want to be limited by fxed form, but have since learned how much I actually enjoy fixed forms of poetry. The villanelle, Qautern, Quatrain, now the Terzanelle, and of course my original, the Shakespearean Sonnet, without the iambic redundancies of course, or should I say the iambic pentameter. I had read Lucilla Carrillo's poem Where are you, and reminded me of these words, although I think the two themes are different.
Does anything even have a meaning?
What are we fighting for here in this town?
What's changed in a year?
And why does it even bother?
Here I am; welcome to me
A semester behind schedule and skating by on strange ice
Am I actually skilled enough to deserve these grades
Or are my professors having mercy on my attempts?
Whizzing by on technicalities
And vomiting out talent when my heart stops holding me back
Am I going to survive in this capitalist wasteland?
Or die with the dregs forever reaching towards the sun?
Victorian castles shrouded in black against an amber sky
Surround a sleepy dirt road with turquoise trees by the wayside
In comfortable chairs with cast iron bars
Everyone I know and love sits enslaved by their brain's chemistry
No hope, no aspirations
As each slaves away for a slave's pay
How do I convince them to live
When I truly see no reason for them, or me, to do so?
Why fear an eternity of blankness?
More importantly, why fear it coming soon?
Compared to endless eons, billions of years
Why bother struggling for another sixty before it takes me anyway?
I've been dead longer than I've been alive
I'll be dead longer than I'll be alive
How am I to convince my friends to live
When I can't even convince myself?
So again I ask, shouting into the inky blackness of the night
Does anything have a meaning beyond what I attach to it?
Does the world truly end with me?
Because I'm a rather poor playwright for that kind of responsibility.
I gently stroked her neck, as she lay calm,
and ran my fingertips along her back,
although surprised, she didn't seem alarmed
quickly relaxed, with both her shoulders slack.
But seconds later I increased my grip,
pinning her face down upon the bed,
panic set in, she tried her best to slip
out from my grasp, she writhed, twisting her head.
She cried, lashed out, and managed to draw blood,
I gasped in pain, but still I held on tight,
despite all her attempts, it proved no good
she now lay still, had given up the fight.
Few things in life are much harder than that
of trying to put flea drops on a cat.
I resemble the boulders, the years, in my courtyard fenced by hatred,
where mountains and pyramids grow, layers of danaids,
fragments of fate scatter, death dances,
and in the past, my memories bite, I melt
a necessary star, from the shadow of last night, gone and lost,
in a crypt embedded, on a present peak of moment,
eternal circle, dry, delusions burning in futile attempts...
because I've looked at her only once, in the dawn of open dream,
decided, exclusively festive, naked and deep,
mad, having a single dimension, a promise,
finally, the immense depth, which awakened my hunger,
lord, deciding me, just as you are, my ugly one,
to tear from you at once, another blonde fragment of girl!
I am the most from the little I've ever been in absence,
your dark light darkens me with its black and translucent light.
You, the perfect imperfection of eternity,
you are my most distant close one,
my coldest love, hot as the frozen flame,
the ice flower that withers through blooming,
your absent presence makes me disappear through appearance,
you are everything from nothing that becomes something from all without emptiness,
a birth so dead it kills lives born in you,
the bitter salty sweetness that heals me through sickening...
you are my gentlest torture with harshness and violence,
my first last encounter with the separation that unites us,
my highest love, low as the sky buried in heaven...
In me withers a blooming so dead it gives birth to life,
I am an absence so present I fill my voids with full emptiness.
A castle on the hill, a symbol resolute.
built upon the broken backs of the poor.
The hungry and homeless of this land.
Enslaved to build, a symbol they despise.
Vast extravagance, and the sturdiest of form.
Representing the empires, boundless strength.
More than a structure, or just a monarch's home
An eternal symbol of a nation, perched atop a hill
For all to marvel at the wonder it ignites.
Each stone place for beauty and for strength.
Ensuring the vast castle, will forever last.
Impenetrable a force, proved by failed attempts.
A castle once sat upon the hill above.
Now in a state of ruin, stones scattered abound.
Remaining as a sad remnant, of an empire's fall.
Destroyed by the hands, of its construction.
A revolution of greater force, than any invader.
Consumed by itself, standing to flaunt ones riches
Motivated by their hunger, and desperate souls.
A siege to avenge, the neglect of all humankind.
The rubble bears no resemblance to a great castle.
Instead it stands a symbol, of total destruction.
Long after death, only reputation will remain.
Who ruled this great castle, no one even knows.
The only memory of the once great civilization.
Is of the men who brought the great structure down.
Citizens of the lowest standing, remain as the stones.
Each stone a symbol, of a revolutionaries strength.
Good, bad or otherwise it is so interesting when we discover one of our ancesters is famous.
'Daredevils over Niagara' was written to showcase people who have attempted to dominate the Canadian Horseshoe Falls. While reading this book I came across one name that stood out. Though not so long ago, a mere 70 years in fact, one of these daredevils was found to be my relative. The book has both written and photo information that echos so many of the adventures over the brink. Both men and women attempted to outwit the roaring turbulance of this great falls. Surprisingly it was a woman by the name of Annie Edison Taylor in 1901 who apparently started this craziness that went on occassionally till 2003. Annie was one of the lucky who survived the thunderous drop over the falls. A total of forteen have made thier attempts with 5 dying or seriously disabled.
One of these people was none other than my distant cousin "Red Hill Jr."
In the summer of 51' he ventured out on the waters in a contraption made of inner tubes. He was hurled over the mighty falls to his death. He perished August 15 at the age of 35.
George Bailey, though not from the movies but rather a local author from Niagara Falls, has written several book on and about the Falls. A few include
Daredevils over Niagara, The Magic of Niagara, and Niagara Facts, Figures and the Famous. Working for the Niagara Parks Commission as Duty Manager gave him opportunity to actually be present when Trotter, one of the barral daredevils was helped out of his vessel. George has also accompanied the likes of Marilyn Monroe, Christopher Reeves, Princess Diana and her boys William and Harry while they were in Niagara. A photo he had taken of the boys and thier mom grace his livingroom. George also mentored me. He helped me to have the confidence to approach people to do interviews with. He showed me what it takes to write articles and guided me so I was able to have two articles in print and be paid for them. He gave me these books so I would alway remember what he taught me. Sadly he is ill now and can't do the things he did but he will always be a very special person in my life and he will never be forgotten by me or I doubt by anyone who has met him.
The search
The Focus
The game
Strategy
Encounter
Ammunition ready
Enemy sight
Preparing attack
Torpedo hits target being the enemy
The enemy must submerge
Spotting the challenger on radar
The enemy has some damage, they won’t get far
The enemy attempts to fire their torpedo but misses the challenger
The challenger scores big
While the enemy trying to be hid
Radar discovers from the challenger being the enemy
Challenger fires their torpedo at the enemy
Ever so close
Suddenly the enemy’s submarine blew to bits
The challenger winning the score of 100
The enemy loses to Zero
Play station aim
Precision of the game
Victorious win.