Long Average Poems
Long Average Poems. Below are the most popular long Average by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Average poems by poem length and keyword.
Listen and you can hear the wind whisper
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.
Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved a real fear gripper.
Fast Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a thousand tons
With errant compass windjammer now strayed
Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns
The current wants to go counter clockwise
Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
Sails unable to give pull to the right
though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries
Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
Exactly where was their lost location
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots
Get back on course or it’s their damnation
No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.
New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying all things they refused to succumb.
Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea
Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape
West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.
Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles
OF THE COMMON SEAS
"We must come down from our heights, and leave our straight paths, for the byways and low places of life, if we would learn truths by strong contrasts; and in hovels, in forecastles, and among our own outcasts in foreign lands, see what has been wrought upon our fellow-creatures by accident, hardship, or vice." **
Truth need not be found
in philosophers' musings,
or complicated by thoughts bound
with theorems and words, fusing,
nor within the intricacies
of mathematical proofs,
as one and one may indeed
not equal two; un-truth is truth.
Truth becomes vast in life,
and like the pearl, can be found
as beauty captured, in seas rife
between the common oyster's gown,
Or found within the common leaves
of books written by common men,
discovered by those literates who read.
Truth is simple, now and ever been.
I stumbled on such a prize
In Dana's autobiography;
of common men on common seas
living truths of common humanity.
** Dana, Jr., Richard Henry, Two Years before the Mast, World Publishing Company, 1946, p. 283
1
Like a moth to a candle flame
I pondered the perceived right
of those of wealth, culture, piety and fame
to control and lead the common blight -
(the average, struggling and forsaken souls);
yet have never descended to the lowly station
to learn the culture of these earthly ghouls,
their dreams, their pleas, their damnation.
As gods atop their cloud draped mountain
how dare they, in their empiric quackery
force the masses to their impure fountain
to drink of the laws and life that they decree,
yet having not trod the tracks of the plebian path,
having never felt the sordid plebian passions,
but worshipping instead their comfort and wealth,
adorned in decadence and richly clothed fashions,
how can they govern those they do not know,
minister to anguish they have never felt
or heal their sickness of body, heart and soul?
How can they play the cards, to them never dealt?
Are they leaders, statesmen, kings and lords,
or simply counterfeit men full only of themselves,
vainglorious peacocks, strutting hordes
deceiving not a common man, only just themselves?
We have them here, in this land of the free,
politicians, preachers, corporate men and judges.
None have suffered and worked, you see
yet dare to rule, when by common men begrudged.
Form:
Voluntary unconditional surrender woke...,
Viz hitting yours truly,
when yokel egghead doth jinx
whereby ye cannot comprehend figurative
wimpy vainglory, unequivocally, tectonically,
smoldering resentments I stoke,
he doth bare his soul no joke,
no matter insight doth severely challenge
cyber surfing passersby, who attempt
to interpret courtesy
mental torture doth invoke
brutality, difficulty, futility gobbledygook,
heavily taxing your fifty
plus shades of gray
I apologetically, grudgingly (ha),
painstakingly, unwittingly... poke,
when mine broadcast
red by anonymous folk
admittedly poetically trumpeting ambiguity
overlain donned with high falutin cloak
peace be with thee courtesy this bloke.
Electronic date/time stamp permeates
within copious, illustrious,
and porous corpus callosum
hemispheric spongy sinks
mister re: mysterious as Sphinx
validation indubitably backfires
invariably induces loosed
unicellular sized rat finks
cerebral blackout courtesy
one to many drinks,
envision sucker punched by
rockin sockin robots one named
Muhammad Ali t'other Leon Spinks,
or gordian knotted cognitive kinks
bajillion befuddled blinks,
albeit feeble analogy methinks
to render genuine concomitant
convoluted, mangled, twisted... (think
Möbius strip) sentiment
specifically linkedin with
sincere appreciation meant
pertaining to this gent
despite slight trepidation
as faux Geico petsmart agent
forced celibate nun sensical chap
considering entering convent
cloistered existence remaining
days of my life get spent,
where "15 minutes
might save me, not so shabby decent
15% or more on car insurance."
Paraphrase aforementioned Matt Speak
more easily succinctly understood,
versus gibberish as ????????
(i.e. the word Greek spelled in Greek)
essentially long in the tooth fella
self anointed literate sheikh
feeble flattered fungi with
average mushroom shaped physique
trends towards playfulness
in tandem with harmless streak
merely acknowledges how his unique
self expression oft times
tongue-in-cheek
experiences giddiness at unsolicited
positive feedback versus he/she,
who doth bitingly, flagrantly,
outrageously, witheringly... critique
modesty misunderstood equivalent
of poetic (peekaboo) hide and seek
to Dani body hook ken find me
game to reveal me re: hide and seek.
just an average typical morning within this same old town
avoiding all the neighbors that nosily creep these grounds
while all these other folks keep busy bodying gossiping and all
who has whiter teeth, bigger boobs, or the cutest guy at the mall
i stopped at the library to dodge all these illiterate snots
the only place that's quite enough for me to organize my thoughts
i walked in just to be stopped, breathless, dead in my tracks
a book, not made of paper or even hard back
binding was some type of stitched authenticism
bound with a beautiful articulate collage of pattern to it
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I stood there for a second, which felt like a lifetime
must have been reading stars, because it left my mind blind
if only just once I could hold that masteredpiece written classic
I can't lie it was perfect man, I just had to have it
I gasped for a moment, dead in my body
frozen and stunned hoping nobody saw me
it crossed my mind for a split, then, I thought
nah ****
if I get caught I'd be a goner, but I just couldn't wait any longer
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I darted for that case in a flash and I shattered that glass
busted it open, like I was late for literature class
static shocked a little as the book touched my hand
it was in that moment i knew i was the #1 fan
then it wasn't long I realized it was written for me
initials imprinted so there was no questioning
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I fell deep into the title it really 'hit a line'
bold, italics, with a dedication underlined
I wasn't sure why I needed or wanted to own it
but I would have searched forever if I would have known it
searching every library for a perfect story
all the titles and endings just really seem to bore me
this one was special I just wanted to trace over the print
read. every small detail. no need for suspense
Long ago, in an estuary formed by the erosion of a fjord,
There sat a piano made of petrified wood with ivy cords.
It was created by a council of beavers, which governed the waters,
Who used local flora and stones to build it, with help from the otters.
For these marine rodents had once heard a human strum a guitar,
And they wanted their own music to impress the humans from afar.
The piano's fifty-two lower keys were made of refined kyanite,
While its thirty-six raised keys were made of black hematite.
Its pedals were donated by some dories from the sea,
Who shaped them from coral plucked from a barrier reef.
As the instrument was built from aquatic and natural material,
It could stand through the torment of torrents and decay of bacteria.
When the piano was finished the beavers and otters stood proud,
And pounced on its keys, which made sounds that were only loud.
The rodents soon realized that none of them knew how to play,
The piano without fingers, so they gave up on music the very next day.
Fraught in their efforts, their hard work had been for naught,
Until a beaver found a boy squatting on a bank looking distraught.
"Why the long face, my dear child," said the beaver to the boy,
Who responded: "I've failed my parents, now I'll never know joy.
Today they bought me a beautiful baby-grand piano to celebrate,
The years of piano lessons they paid for, on my thirteenth birthday.
After seven long years of lessons and tutelage,
My ability to read notes is still way below average."
So the beaver brought the boy to what the animals had built,
To help the boy overcome his feelings of failure and guilt.
The beaver said to him then: "Play not that which you see but hear,
For music is a melodic and emotional sensation that you feel in your ears."
So the boy closed his eyes and rested his hands on the keys of gemstone,
And listened to what he heard and played the loveliest music he'd ever known.
For the boy could never read the language of music that others had wrote,
But learned he could play any sound heard, when his fingers struck the right notes.
So the boy played away to the sounds that he heard,
The current of water, and pecked songs of a bird.
As he played the animals danced with heads bobbing and nodding,
And when the boy opened his eyes he saw his parents applauding.
MY AGE
My age is nothing but a number, nothing but a slumber that I can’t wake from, this is what I’ve done. I’ve looked around and found that the matter of the fact is life isn’t what it’s supposed to be for me.
The average teenager spends most of their lifetime looking at their phones and when it’s time to learn something new their minds have already grown. Absorbing every single thing that they are sold, having a twelve year old’s body and the mind of a twenty one year old.
Social media doesn’t help the situation, it only changes how the different problems are situated. It has stolen complete sentences and created abbreviations, shortcuts of a language used by my generation. You could be laughing out loud when in reality you’re crying, saying TBH to be honest when in actual fact you’re actually lying.
And to that you can’t say anything because if LIFE was abbreviated it would stand for Living In Fear of Everything.
This is what I go through, in addition the music industry has had a major breakthrough. It has managed to be more influential promoting sex, drugs and slurs that are racial. “Making money moves” is about dancing on a pole, “Smoke weed everyday” is the daily intake of dope and this is said all while mentioning the one African American slave term that we all know. My nig-...I can’t say it though. So why do you. You have no idea who that affects. Sometimes we need to learn to be more politically correct.
They say that euphoria is just around the corner, behind the school building in a midst of vape. These are the lies they create, saying everything is ok. Just inhale it once and you’ll be done. I’m sorry, you can call me a loner but don’t mistake me for a stoner. One shot, two shots, three shots, four, hard. Call me antisocial but I’ve never drank before and I’m not about to start.
Society is full of influences, temptations and choices. However people like me always end up being voiceless. They think we’re too young to have any serious issues, that’s just another excuse for not wanting to accept the truth. You choose to change the subject to something totally unrelated, “We don’t have many problems?” well isn’t that an understatement?
You say that it will change, you say it’s just a phase, you say it’s another page in my story, no, this stage, right here...
This is MY AGE!
It was a sugar maple.
Fairly average in size, a good
Number of branches, some
Low enough to climb for a
Child like myself.
I was never very athletic,
Hated all sorts of sports,
But this tree, this one tree
I could climb.
I would scramble up her
Branches in spring after
School, and tell her all
About my day, in my head
Of course, because who
In their "right mind" talks
To themselves?
In summer, after I
Completed that day's
Workbook assignment,
I would sit between the leaves
And read the latest book
I had checked out of the
Local library, my second
Favorite place to be.
When her leaves began
To change in fall, I would
Climb her cool limbs
In my puffy jacket and
Let the crisp October air
Flow through my hair.
He (the wind I mean)
Was my other best friend.
But the sweet maple also
Kept me high up, away from
The house below where
Mom and Dad would yell,
Where Dad would throw
Plastic cups my Mom got
From the nursing home,
Where Mom would sob
And pray he would stop.
And I prayed then, too.
Prayed I could one day fly,
Take to the sky like the
Birds in the feeder below.
I would pray for friends, too.
Human friends, I mean.
I don't think God could hear,
Even high up in my tree.
The tree isn't there now.
As I grew up, it grew sick.
The leaves fell earlier every
Year until one spring, they
Just didn't grow back.
And so the laundry lines
Were cut, and my old,
Sweet sugar maple tree
Became my uncle's firewood,
My Dad's smoking chips.
You can't see where she was
Anymore. The final remnants
Of the stump have rotted away.
Only grass remains where
Once my friend stood, where
The wind whispered sweet
Nothings in my ear, where
The setting summer sun
Would trickle through the
Jade-green leaves, the
Leaves that turned upside-down
When a storm was coming.
Now I've moved away from
That house. Two-thousand
Miles away to a desert that
Has never seen a sugar maple.
I can't climb trees anymore.
Seems that skill died with
My friend. I think I feel what
She was feeling. Still relatively
Young, but health slipping
By every year.
Someday my stump will
Rot away. No trace of me left
To tell you I was there. But
Maybe, someone will move in
With a child, and I can listen as
She tells me her dreams,
And we can watch the stars
Together.
Heart Attack Self Help
A viral message of self help is making its round through whatsapp..
Reportedly written by a cardiologist Dr Siva, a senior doctor of the heart…
It implores each reader to spare a mere 2 minutes, to please read his message…
Doing so, you will be ready when heart attack strikes and you are alone, needing aid..
It is a fact we must all be fully aware, heart attacks do give an early warning…
If you feel nauseous and you feel faint, your internal alarm bells should start ringing…
When next strikes a severe pain at the heart, make no mistake , this is it…
The pain, it spreads up to your arm and onto your jaw, you are in dire straits..
Urgent is the need for more oxygen for your agonised heart, CPR quick, please....
Some of us may have knowledge how to apply aid and CPR to a heart attack victim…
What if, now you are the suffering victim, and the pain strikes, you can’t even scream..
Doctors say, time is of essence, delay is the greatest enemy for any heart attack victim..
Even if the hospital is mere minutes away, you desperately need immediate help right away..
Do as Dr Siva says, draw deep breaths and cough deeply, do them repeatedly and very vigorously…
Each breath be deep, each cough deep and prolonged, as if to expel sputum deep inside the chest..
Doing so, more oxygen is drawn into the lungs, the coughing squeezes the heart, blood circulates..
This simple self help, of deep and vigorously coughing when in the throes of a heart attack…
All these, they help squeeze your suffering heart into regaining its normal rhythm ….
In any heart attack situation, every millisecond counts, and until you get professional help..
If you are alone, then it is all down to you to stay alive a few seconds longer till expert help..
This simple self aid may yet save your life, and to many others who read this message…
So do spread and share this knowledge, for as one ages, it’s our lives at stake….
And here is the frightening fact, when heart attack happens, you're helpless...
You will, on the average, a mere 11 seconds before succumbing to unconsciousness..
So this little self help is not in jest, neither is it a fictional nor creative token...
Let's pray it will not happen to you or I, but by being thus informed, your 1st survival step is taken..
Self quarantined misanthrope pitched into purgatory wham!
Ably cane resign eternal damnation (mine)
courtesy devil specially engraved telegram
prestidigitation found me vanishing shazam,
without a trace I disappeared in thin air voila
Earthly travails atop horns of dilemma ram
into me buttucks pitching yours truly ma'am
hoisted by my own petard sheepishly wool
ewe (red dully) bull heave human bug eyed
recalcitrant specimen (me) nonetheless lamb
basted skewered (think shish kabob) log jam
succinctly described helplessness to preserve
ultimately repurposed into green eggs and ham
harmless recluse no more valuable than flotsam.
Grant simple wish to withdraw into hermitage
coronavirus (COVID-19) just desserts we wage
us *****sapiens on trial across web world stage
severely misappropriating Earthly resources rage
understandable Gaia she pointedly reminds adage
inescapable comeuppance whereby our civilization
written off as atrocious, hellacious, malicious, page
poisonous primates essentially, dismally, yes clearly
bollixed, failed, leveraged, & tortured planet I gauge
hell in a handbasket ironic tragicomic fate wise sage
of yesteryear did prognosticate now we scurry hither
and yon, to and fro Smashing Pumpkins immortalize
metaphor likened each one of us as rat locked in cage
bajillion eons ago once upon a time our noble savage
ancestors levels playing field now new bacteriophage
relentlessly pits twenty first century civilization doles
microscopic organism (battling unseen enemy) voyage
around sun fraught tooth and nail powder milk biscuits
a Prairie Home Companion ruse buzzfeeding courage
for shy people (yours truly) communicating message,
albeit urgent to revamp paradigm to live social - nsync
with eco friendly coda allowing, enabling, & providing
liberty and justice for all living (colorful) things hostage
at mercy of self proclaimed superior beasts above average
with intelligence, yet rendering oblate spheroid garbage.
No major inconvenience incapacitates rather humdrum
bard (rarely bored), I wanna pitch headlong into scrum
no need to scream and shout, cuz I speak softly to mum
(Mother Earth) reassuring, she inevitably bests hoodlum
standing arrogant, boastful, deceitful comfortably numb
oblivious when day of reckoning delivers offal maelstrom.
God is always the greatest- Sylvia Frances Chan wrote
And me-
God is the greatest
who said- Human or God!
if I say God is great
Yes, because of my belief
If any human, the believer says
Yes, because of belief
If any animal says!
Oh! animal can't speak like a human!
Oh no! animal maybe does like humans
But, neither human nor animal
God said- God is Almighty!
Yes, I believe the speech of God, the Holy Books
That's why God is the greatest!
And
Your truth dwells in a thankful heart- Sylvia Frances Chan wrote
And me-
O God
I know not what is "The Truth"
But, according to my realistic perception
I feel this truth in different ways,
Person to person, place to place, time to time
The truth seizes all differently
This Truth is Your mercy, O God
on every creation
O God
You live everywhere
but everyone cannot feel You
On average
O God
though Your presence, Your mercy
to everyone yet
everyone cannot realize it perfectly
O God
You are the greatest You said and I believe always
For Your greatness, generous blessings
Still, the dwellers of the earth live in peace
O God
I am thankful, grateful to You
I am surrendered
I believe- You live in every surrendered Soul
And when
In your love, I lost my existence
Without strenuous identity, I asked myself who I am - I wrote
Then-
I am the mirror
you look at daily - Me Poet Yeps Poet wrote
And me-
Maybe or
may not be
I- the mirror
where not I exist
the reflected one and that's you
yes, I am
you, or he
or all
or the self,
thru the all
or thru the me
I am all
Varieties form of ONE!
So I am everywhere within me
or within everyone and everything
I am
yes
the me
form of human
the physical structure I have
like a brilliant -sapiens
truly I live in
wondrous thought
contained by unshaped mind
craziness, captivation
time to time
there it cultivates various thought
shape to un-shape
imaginative, fascination
but I forget
I am not the body
the physical shape
which is made by the true me,
made by my thought,
made by my imaginative power!
In this imaginative power, I lost myself
Neither I am nor any natural being
And this imagination molds a belief
By which I said- I am you, he or she
And this form contains our creator as God
-Chattogram