Long Austin Poems
Long Austin Poems. Below are the most popular long Austin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Austin poems by poem length and keyword.
San Woo Where Did You Go
It looks like you packed up your bags
and skipped town
why
it doesn't make sense
my little tulip
you're following the same path as aqua marine
to clarify
both of you ...
or is it both of you puppets
would lavish me with genuine comments ...
I thought ...
you would boost my spirits
adding sugar to my day
... and now
and now poof ...
you are gone
it doesn't make sense
there's no rhyme or reason
I'm devastated
you two were the only two friends
I had here
it was just a few weeks you were laughing
laughing at my poems ...
I thought it was genuine
and now you're gone
I don't know what to think anymore
maybe it was all a facade
It's weird
I'm in a bubble
a big bubble of mice and men, here
is one of you nurses going to bring my psyche meds?
help, help
please
let me see past this aberration
is somebody out to hurt me?
wheres the good light
getting back to woo
one of her contest that i entered
double trouble, as i look back at it now
i didn't smell one blade of grass in the placing
and that comes on the heels of receiving at least 7 sevens
from readers comments
i thought that was weird, too
or was that another stab in my back to hurt me
my dear little tulip?
like what i said i dont know what to think anymore
esp. receiving any of the readers comments to my poems ..
in the future
i can think of it as being one of her puppets
playing with me ... like austin, her cat, does to a piece of shrimp
one step she be
probir probably be next to exit stage
i can see that playing out
i cans see all her barbies in a frenzy, laughing, as i write
nice picture
cry and bare the black bear, i guess.
connie pachecho
1/27/17
It's said that Cupid crashed to Earth.
His bones all left for broken.
That God himself said he'd rebuild
in parts as much as spoken.
He gave him two bionic legs
and one bionic arm.
Then added on a robot eye
to place it there for charm.
Now if this sounds familiar
and this tale less than truth.
Forget about Steve Austin
that you learned about in youth.
The truth is that for Cupid's sake
God also gave him teeth.
Big metal ones to wrap around
his mouth just like a wreath.
And now dear Cupid longs to eat
the boys and girls he meets.
For Bionic Cupid's now a monster
and lovers now his sweets.
11:45 pm
Spot light’s glare, shadows rocking
Wooden stage moving beneath my feet
Worn of past performances, steadied for the new breed
Bottles line the edge, dead soldiers, lipstick
Some full, some not, some spilled…nice
She’s there, always there, a comforting sight
Behind the bar, eyes that invite and a laugh that sings
Keeping watch, black printed T, wears it perfectly
Hot as all Hades, but cool as spring
Not sure if she owns this or it owns her…but she knows
Sticks count out the intro… 2,3,4
High on E, bent to a G, this is it, her favorite,
the one that gets her right there
She looks up at me with that smile, that smile
Loving how this feels in her heart
And she knows I know…
The way she moves her head from side to side
Eyes closed, lips smooth, shut tight, grooving
Playing an air guitar now,
She’s good…following my lead fret by fret
She knows how…yes she knows
Maybe I’m in love, no maybe…she is mine
My music is for her, it’s always been for her
And somehow, she’s the lyrics
I have always sung…and always will
I play D’addario, she plays heart strings…mine
Mouthing the words to the chorus,
She is my silent harmony tonight, pitch perfect
This music is us, this club her world, our world
I love this place, I love us and I love her
And she knows…
The 6th Street I am talking about is in Austin Texas. It is the center of the musical world in that city. You can find any kind of music you like being played live in any of a number of different clubs on this street
There are four parts to this series if you care to see them. Actually there are 5, but # 5 would probably be a bit much for this site.
I feel for gentle hearts in this loud world,
Ever suspect, dismissed and derided,
For long has been the shy a songless bird,
That Darwin dismissed as ‘odd state of head’,
Jane Austin gave shyness a broader scope,
Calling it a ‘moral, mental disease’,
And Freud, his fame fending for men no rope,
With sub-conscious cladding, a twist of his
That smelt of ‘displaced love of self-scored goals’,
A simple disposition framed as law,
Oh poking fun and scoring birdie holes,
In matters straight, cobwebs of gauze he saw,
And sensitive violets were on blame,
Poor things, shrunk with self-deprecating shame.
Violets shrunk with disparaging shame,
And shyness drawn from society’s unease,
Scarce unto standard mould can ever squeeze,
O get condemned— a jade that could be gem.
Though sensitive nigh to a gawking gaze,
Here am I basking still in benign bliss—
A shy soul, they say, more inventive is,
And tolerant the more to worldly ways
That mistake plane shyness as being cold,
Aloof, and worse still, somewhat arrogant,
And value those that be loud, neddless bold,
I’m happy now that they were ignorant.
Let critics bask under ill-informed bliss,
I marvel, how creative this bird is.
Creative, this touch-me-not kind of bird,
Or call it a flower called violet,
An introvert of an easy mind-set,
One blessed with fecund skills, a bit absurd—
Skills lacked by too talkatively inclined,
While some greats confess to ‘fainting with fears’
Ere giving speech to some so-called speakers,
Some loners lack the skills called social kind.
I know, shyness has no one ever hurt,
But self that feels cosy under own skin.
Let shyness stay forever verdant green,
Let it never make me an extrovert,
That I live in my own solitude proud,
Innovative, gentle in world so loud.
_________________________________
Two recent books set my thinking bird brooding over bashfulness: The Man who mistook his Wife for a Hat, by Oliver Sacks; and Shrinking Violets: The Secret Life of Shyness, by Joe Moran. These books advocate that the shy should get a better deal, for they tend to be more creative. Here is the why: musing over, these three sonnets (crown of…) materialized that made me feel a bit elated.
Crown of Sonnets | 01.03.2017 |
BEING JOAN MIRO
All the common fears and complaints of life
may be put to canvas
one need only tap the gift
Of looking into
of looking through
That imperceptible crowd of creative gravity
where might be found
Things no-things no-forms
afloat whirling or resting
In the unconscious mansions
Find the brush’s will not your own
Groups of many colors appear
Scattered or blended
Shapes of no earthly form
Infinite the possibilities
Put here-and-now aside
Let the brush have its will
Cold starting the car on a crisp autumn morning
my Dad wasn't the happiest bloke,
put antifreeze in it, ran the engine, ten minutes
and then he could pull out the choke.
On his pale blue Austin the locks needed defrosting,
condensation to clear from inside,
warm water down the screen and then give it a clean
after that, it was ready to ride.
In my sixty second year, like that old car, I fear
(and it crept up on me without knowing),
I now have developed a cold start routine
since otherwise I can't get going.
Wipe the sleep from my eyes,
stretch my arms to the sides,
move my head in a figure of eight,
a good cough to feel better
clears my carburettor,
then a yawn, and a two minute wait.
I get out of bed but my exhaust backfires,
I wasn't quite expecting that,
with a moan the good lady hides under the sheets
and I'm left with a disgusted cat.
He ignored the warning signs and moved carefully forward and backward
In the rocking chair of swept memories and went for a wild white knuckle ride
Swayed but not faltering although he swung like a junky on amphetamine pills
Soaked in recollections gathered momentum and made dents in the floor boards
He pictured himself as a young man courting his sweetheart and kissed the bride
Life had dealt him difficult cards but he had upped his game in the view of defeat
Made allowances for bad hands and survived depression divorce and uncertainty
Valued his shortcomings and turned obstacles and flaws into forces of challenge
Photographs trinkets newspaper clippings and baby shoes swished past in a flash
A rollercoaster adventure of vertigo and nausea but also of thrilling escapes
Parachuting down abysses cliff diving and bungee jumps into a red-hot volcano
Confined to a nursing home he refused to accept the dumping ground it seemed
His conscience was clear but that signalled that truths were merely impermanent
And the subconscious tends to rest below an iceberg of prominent falsifications
Like laundering imperfection with fabric softener on kind collages and tapestry
Photo-shopping was before his time but he knew to cut and paste with his mind
Racing thoughts and blustering emotions collected on the windscreen of his soul
First pay packet for an old Enfield motorcycle then traded for an Austin Minor
Redundancy after the miner’s strike and still both his children made it to College
Some say it’s been a junk yard but he fathoms recycling for future generations
26th October 2019
.
my precious poets writerz thinkerz and yesss, y'all who thought;
ty so much for 17yearz uv bliss...heck yeah! Listen up...I won 2nd
place in a poetry contest for 6-8th graderz, I 6th, which consisted uv
300 uv thuh 600 students...huge public school in Philly...anywho,
I never stop'd writing. Once I felt that mine think mature'd, i sought
out thuh poetry forum to find kindred with...damn wuz that hard!
Anywho...ty for let'n me spill...and I'll tell y'all, though i felt az i had
mature'd elegantly 'fore I landlop'd on y'all...mm-mm, nope, not thuh
case...i've learn'd so much from thuh sum'y'all...and yuh know;
it's given me even more think tuh spill 'bout...oh yeah, mhm, e.g.
az thuh write 'bout, ourn to thuh sum; miss'd, carolyn devonshire
("Carolyn's Ranch") or my buddy; daver austin... and mine butterfly
charmaine chircop..and ourn potty mouth jan allison ")> etc. etc...
..well, enough uv mine babble....so, lol, I iz who i iz, I don't think that
it's by coincidence that i've had so much positive with thuh feminine,
that, that's all I write about...i'll probably croak 'fore I finish write'n all
uv thuh wonderful experiencez with thuh fem-i-'nine'< I mean...that
werd iz "nine"..thus now more y'all know how my sayz; fem-i-nine.
by-thuh-way, did y'all check out "my" new poetry form..."dip"...check
them out..."Intro: New Form 'dip' part 1" likewise part 2 and so on.
my aspiration iz that my "dip" will be an accepted poetry form known
globally..and, I created this form hear...on thuh soup! much love
TO THE LITTLE MAN INSIDE ME
By Simeon Austin David Pangu
To the little man inside me,
Struggling to be set free.
Mr inability you have been called,
Making you feel little when wanting to stand tall.
You dream of happiness and joy,
Sadly on you tears you crawl.
Trying to make the world see the ability in your inability,
The ungrateful desperate always shadowing you in their quest for vanity.
Looking in the sky, the stars you see only few?
Your steeps you should have halt, but curiosity never knew?
You are Mr inability you are me!
Just hold tight your ability one day the world will see.
There is one thing you have that is hope,
Though it cannot be seen through your scope.
You have it in your possession, you have it all,
Just hold on for the test is your storm.
You quest for love but you find hate,
Celebrating your angel, only to realize she is your mother's mate,
The supposed facilitator of your dream is killing it,
Enjoying your agony, it appears to be sweet.
The world is unfair the feeble will cry,
You don't need that to courage you in your strive.
Be brave! for you have a mission,
You mission is to achieve your vision.
You are Mr inability that what you are,
Until the world realize your ability, then they will realize who you truly are.
Creative writers society
[email protected]
+23288241244
"HIS GENTLE SOULMATE"
By Austin Fwasan Maseko
In the space where words aren't needed
She speaks to me, in whispers
Eyes locking, hearts beating as one
In her gaze, my soul's undone
No loud declarations, just quiet truth
In her silence, I find my youth
With every glance, my love for her grows
In her quiet love, my heart forever flows
She's the map to uncharted seas
Compass guiding me, through life's degrees
No need for directions, she knows the way
In her loving lead, I'd gladly stay
With every step, our love will roam
In her quiet strength, I find my home
No need for words, her love's the key
In her loving arms, I'm free to be
In twilight's hush, where shadows play
Her hand in mine, drives the world's dismay
With whispered words, of love's sweet song
In her loving gaze, my heart is strong
No need for vows, her love's written clear
In every glance, my love for her appears
With innocence and charm, she'd light my night
In her quiet love, everything's alright
She's the calm in my stormy sea
My guiding star, my love, my all, she'd be
In her loving arms, my soul finds peace
With her by my side, my heart releases
In her quiet love, I find my home
In her silent gaze, my heart is known
With every breath, my love for her grows
In her loving love, my heart forever shows