Long Ba Poems
Long Ba Poems. Below are the most popular long Ba by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ba poems by poem length and keyword.
Iambic pentameter is all about the syllables, which ones are loud, and which ones are soft.
Baboon has two sounds – ba, and boon, a soft sound, and then a loud sound. High school also has two syllables, or two sounds. High and School also has two sounds, but the rhythm is loud sound, soft sound. The phrase: A baboon teaches at the high school has how many syllables? If you do not know, you can easily clap it out. With each sound, do one clap. A (one clap or one sound) baboon (two claps or two sounds), teaches (2 claps or two sounds) at (one clap or one syllable or one sound), the (one clap or one syllable or one sound), high (one clap or one syllable) school (one clap or one syllable or one sound).
The phrase A baboon teaches at the high school has a total of 10 sounds or 10 syllables or 10 claps.
Let us look at the word baboon again. Baboon - a soft sound, then a loud sound, or a soft syllable, and then a loud syllable, right? What about the word high school? Which syllable is soft? Which syllable is loud? The loud syllable is the first one, because that is the one your voice puts the most emphasis on.
Consequently, the word high school has a loud syllable, soft syllable rhythm.
When poets speak of iambic pentameter they are speaking of a five-in-a-row rhythm of soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud sounds. It is important to remember there are five of them, and they must be soft loud, not loud soft sounds. Would high school work in this rhythm? Not well as it is a loud soft sound. What about the word baboon would it work in iambic pentameter – soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud, soft loud? Five in a row? Yes, it would because baboon is a soft loud word. Baboon, baboon, baboon, baboon, baboon. It might be possible to instill the word baboon in your mind now, so when you are writing iambic pentameter you can remember that baboon would work and the cadence is soft, loud. Also please remember to write iambic pentameter it must be five in a row.
A baboon teaches at the high school.
She has never heard of the golden rule.
Her students make fun of her behind her back.
Her lunch they have blown up in a paper sack.
We were supposed to go on a field trip today,
But the only one who signed up was that suck up, Mae.
Written July 16, 2018
Entered Line Gauthier’s Poetry Contest
Contest: Reads Like Music
A Rift in Time
By Elton Camp
Henry Higgins, B.A., M.A. Ph.D., graduate in physics from the Massachusetts Institution of Technology, is missing. Born August 8, 1950, he was thought of as a genius by some, but as a crackpot by others. Revolutionary theories on the possibility of time travel that he presented at scientific gatherings received a mixture of applause and ridicule. None of his articles have seen publication in peer-reviewed journals.
How his machine works is of a technical nature, thus certain to be of insignificant interest to the readers of this account. Suffice it to say that it works very well. Henry had seen his device disappear and reappear multiple times after being programmed to slide both forward and backward in time.
Finally came the day to test it in person. Surprisingly athletic for a man of his years, Henry strapped himself into place before the control panel, adjusted his eyeglasses and pulled a protective helmet over his thick, gray hair. He set the chronometer to early August of 2040 to determine if he was still living at that advanced age and what honors had been accorded him by the scientific community.
With a barely-discernable jerk, the time machine began its slide into the future, the red cancel button prominently alongside the digital display of the date. The world outside the device became a blur and Henry heard only a low hum from the engine. All seemed to be well as the years rolled by on the chronometer. At first, that is.
Henry noted with surprise the muscle atrophy and skin changes associated with extreme age. A slight looseness of his helmet caused him to discover that he was now as bald as his father had been in his late eighties. Henry’s eyeglasses no longer allowed him to read the control panel clearly. The truth hit him--he was aging along with the passing years. The inanimate time machine had shown no such effect, but it was different with a biological organism. He desperately punched the cancel button, realizing that, if his future self was not still living, his death was impending.
To his relief, the chronometer slowed and stopped. Without input from Henry, the time device began to move backward in time, slowly at first, and then at a brisk clip. By the time the read-out showed Henry’s present, his physical deterioration had been reversed and all was as before.
………………………………………………………………
H
Ha
Hap
Happ
Happy
Happy o
Happy or
Happy or d
Happy or de
Happy or dep
Happy or depr
Happy or depres
Happy or depress
Happy or depresse
Happy or depressed
Happy or depresse
Happy or depress
Happy or depres
Happy or depre
Happy or depr
Happy or dep
Happy or de
Happy or d
Happy or
Happy o
Happy
Happ
Hap
Ha
H
L
Li
Lif
Life
Life i
Life is
Life is a
Life is a b
Life is a ba
Life is a bal
Life is a bala
Life is a balan
Life is a balanc
Life is a balanci
Life is a balancin
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing act
Life is a balancing ac
Life is a balancing a
Life is a balancing
Life is a balancin
Life is a balanci
Life is a balanc
Life is a balan
Life is a bala
Life is a bal
Life is a ba
Life is a b
Life is a
Life is
Life i
Life
Lif
Li
L
S
So
So e
So ea
So eas
So easy
So easy t
So easy to
So easy to s
So easy to sl
So easy to sli
So easy to slip
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fall
So easy to slip and fal
So easy to slip and fa
So easy to slip and f
So easy to slip and
So easy to slip an
So easy to slip a
So easy to slip
So easy to sli
So easy to sl
So easy to s
So easy to
So easy t
So easy
So eas
So ea
So e
So
S
M
Mo
Moo
Mood
Moods
Moods t
Moods th
Moods tha
Moods that
Moods that f
Moods that fa
Moods that fal
Moods that fall
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise again
Moods that fall can rise agai
Moods that fall can rise aga
Moods that fall can rise ag
Moods that fall can rise a
Moods that fall can rise
Moods that fall can ris
Moods that fall can ri
Moods that fall can r
Moods that fall can
Moods that fall ca
Moods that fall c
Moods that fall
Moods that fal
Moods that fa
Moods that f
Moods that
Moods tha
Moods th
Moods t
Moods
Mood
Moo
Mo
M
………………………………………………………………
Wait for tomorrow’s new day
She was an Indian Barbie, long curly lash
And brown complexion. The hair was
Perfect, shiny black and she had on a small
Pink gown to cover her 36-24-36 body.
Last seen, she still had on her high heeled shoes.
Oh how my daughter cried, “Dolly, Dolly,
Where are you?” when she found out she left,
It on the basketball court’s grounds. She took
It along, against her mom’s frequent reminders,
When grandpa brought her with him for a walk.
She cried horribly, my wife mailed me. Tears
Rolling down her cheeks even as her mother
Scolds, tears not for the accusatory words
But for her Dolly who is gone. Gone away,
Lost and probably in another child’s hands.
My wife, with a guilt ridden grandpa’s idea,
Told her Dolly wasn’t lost after all. In fact
She was on her dolly way to dad now who
Works onboard a ship, sailing far, far away
So he can buy milk and nappies for small kids.
“Punta sya dun kasi lungkot si Daddy di ba?”
(She went there because Dad is lonely right?)
She asks in between sobs of her mom, who
Can only nod and kiss her on the forehead
And whisper a “Yes,” the whitest of white
Lies meant to comfort a grieving, sad child.
Fast forward to the time I talked to my child
On a long distance call, from a very public booth.
She asked me if Dolly was with me, forewarned,
I can only sigh a cheerful aye. “Talaga? tignan ko nga!”
(Oh yeah? Let me see her then!)
Of course she must have meant to talk to her.
I didn’t hesitate, all so suddenly I knew what to do,
Then and there I belted a falsetto, uncaring
Of the Island people around me, for in that one
Sparkling moment, I was talking to my child not as
A father but as a long lost friend who misses her.
“HAH! Helloooo Dolly, andyan ka sa barko ni Daddy?”
(Hello Dolly, are you there on Daddy’s ship?)
She asks me after my high pitched hello, asking
with such gasped longing, with such breathless relief,
with such childlike delight and innocence. Even as
Eavesdroppers wonder what harm befell my balls!
The rest of that dreamy conversation is lost to me now.
The wonder of her tone, her concern, her yearning for
Her doll is all that remains, of the father and daughter
Transcending bounds of love, blasting colors and
Rainbows to a gray span of reality, even for a while.
---Part 2 on my poem list please read too long to post
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
CLINGE TIGHT TO YOUR RUN:
This is ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES....
VERSE 1:
Why u dey loosing ya real identity?
and wetin de make you despise yourself?
na it by how you've been sensed by odas acuity,?
if it's by covetousness or pauperism, then kindly seek god's help.
juss esteem ya image and don faith,
bicos no bi wetin pipo tok,
determines ya life after much much for di day.
chorus:
today, sweet tins go you get,
tomorrow, scope tins might be for ya hand.
or perhaps vice versa, mai fellow man.
tey tey life keeps changing for everi give tanda,
so be bold and clinge tight to ya run.
for afta di deal for struggle na do,
surely,will dia be glory and fun.
chorus:
today, sweet tins go you get,
tomorrow, scope tins might be for ya hand.
or perhaps vice versa, mai fellow man.
tey tey life keeps changing for everi give tanda,
so be bold and clinge tight to ya run.
for afta di deal for struggle na do,
surely,will dia be glory and fun
VERSE 2:
nnwontofo kuw: .
?nn?, nne?ma a ?y? d? benya, .
?kyena, ebia nne?ma a ?y? anika b?ba wo nsam.
Anaas? ebia nea ?ne no b? abira no, me y?nko nipa.
Esiane s? asetra k? so sakra w? gyinabea biara nti, .
Enti nya akokoduru na bata wo mmirikatu no ho denneennen.
Efis? s? w?y? apereperedi no wie a, .
Akyinnye biara nni ho s?,so anuonyam ne anigye b?ba.
Chorus:
today, sweet tins go you get,
tomorrow, scope tins might be for ya hand.
or perhaps vice versa, mai fellow man.
tey tey life keeps changing for everi give tanda,
so be bold and clinge tight to ya run.
for afta di deal for struggle na do,
surely,will dia be glory and fun.
chorus:
today, sweet tins go you get,
tomorrow, scope tins might be for ya hand.
or perhaps vice versa, mai fellow man.
tey tey life keeps changing for everi give tanda,
so be bold and clinge tight to ya run.
for afta di deal for struggle na do,
surely,will dia be glory and fun
VERSE 2:
nnwontofo kuw: .
?nn?, nne?ma a ?y? d? benya, .
?kyena, ebia nne?ma a ?y? anika b?ba wo nsam.
Anaas? ebia nea ?ne no b? abira no, me y?nko nipa.
Esiane s? asetra k? so sakra w? gyinabea biara nti, .
Enti nya akokoduru na bata wo mmirikatu no ho denneennen.
Efis? s? w?y? apereperedi no wie a, .
Akyinnye biara nni ho s?,so anuonyam ne anigye b?ba.
Awww.... ANDERSON WALKINGSHOES...
Name nsa wo my....
When I enrolled in magical school
Ma said good luck
Dad called me a fool
He always thought with my IQ
I’d fix people up,
Not saw them in two.
But I had a vision
And my self esteem
Hung on the balance
Of this simple dream
So I packed my bag
Gave Ma a hug
Reached out to pop
Who said with a shrug
Watch each one of your steps
Cause each one of them matters
When you walk without looking
You’re sure to splatter
So take my advice
It may save your life
You can’t step twice
On thin ice.
I’ll show that man who I can be
With a B.A.
In alchemy
I have no doubt that he’ll be glad
Because my plan
Was ironclad
I bought all my books
Most second hand
I was so ready
To beat the band
But where was my room
Did it disappear?
I’m such a buffoon
Then dad’s words appeared.
If you can’t find your way
Don’t lose your nerve
It’s all a small part
Of the learning curve
So take my advice
It may save your life
Rolling the dice
Is a vice
I tried running down the empty halls
But all the doors
Turned into walls
I shouted a chant, before weeping
‘Allah-Kazow-ee’
To get me sleeping
I dreamed about A’s
The prodigal son
The star of my class
Magic 101
But soon my visions
Became nightmares
I woke and screamed
And if pop was there
He’d say, when in a jam
Take an afternoon nap
Cause a grumpy head
Ain’t worth a crap
So take my advice
It may save your life
To make nice
Sleep twice
At last, I made it to classes
But that first day
I lost my glasses
Teacher assumed I was a jerk
Rewarding me
A week of homework
Then my trick cards turned red
The hare’s sick in bed
The bouquet looked dead
So I called home, and said,
“I’m failing Hocus Pocus
Gotta D in smoke in mirrors
It’s so hard to focus
When all I make is errors
Then dad said with much calm
First give yourself a hand
Before counting on others
And soon you’ll understand
So take my advice
It may save your life
Give yourself a high-five
To survive
So I practiced day and night
‘Till each ‘Abra’
Came out right
And my Presto-Digi-ture
Was more than
Amateur
Then all those D’s
Turned into A’s
Without tricks
I was amazed
Hard work after all
Was a giant step for me
But with dad’s advice
I learned the mystery
Each day is irreplaceable
And comes with a caveat
If you waste its offerings
You deserve just what you get
So take my advice
It may save your life
Being wise
Is the prize
*Hello everyone, I know I have been out a few weeks but i'm back to reposting my old poems. I believe this one was from 2019 so enjoy!*
Good morning class!
Today we have a very important lesson. We will be learning about our country and how we came to be, mostly importantly, about immigrants.
The founding fathers created this country and fought wars and countries to obtain their independence. And who knows what we have because of their hard-work?
F-R-E-E-D-O-M
Exactly little Suzie, we are free to do whatever we want if we follow the rules. But guess who doesn't follow rules?
I-M-M-I-G-R-A-N-T-S
Now little Suzie, you see, once we built this country, other people wanted to come to our home and try to invade it. We first welcomed them, but they turned out to be bad people. Some may try to hurt your parents or take your dolls.
Others sell drugs to make more money or take girls and use them for their own desires.
If you ever see an illegal person
- Call ICE
- Ba rate them with names as we call the police
- Point at them whenever they speak spanish and yell "speak english"
ITs a fire drill, just stop, drop, and roll. Stop when you sited such a person, drop a couple f-bombs here and there on how thye suck, and then roll on your name out of there
Little Suzie, no good alien exists. They are trying to ruin our land, ruin your precious lives
They are like an open book that has invisible ink on the pages, all we have to do it get some clairty and read it.
Their kids grow up to terrorize the streets, us Americans were made to roam around the white house halls. Because unlike them, we actually belong in this country.
They only pick up our trash and crops because they know how they need to respect. They scrub the floors of this class and others everyday because it's the only thing they are good at, serving.
Don't cry little Suzie, your tears mean nothing to the aliens, the illegals. There is a solution to this. Its called a
W-A-L-L
So that way we are safe from their grasps and can sleep at night, knowing that they are just rats in this cat game. They constantly go for the cheese.
Well, I believe this it it class. Please put away your stuff and act normally...the last thing you need is to be acting as an immigrant.
ang bidlisiw sa adlaw adunay buot nga ipasabot,
ug ang mga isda nagpatim-aw aron mo saksi sa bag-ong adlaw,
nangamuyo sa kahitas-an, nanghinaot nga mawagtang kining katalagman,
apan ang huyuhoy sa kadagatan puwerteng linawa,
ug miduyog na ang mga langgam sa pagkanta,
klasi-klasi nga tingog ang imong masayran ug madunggan,
adunay kasuko, kasagmuyo, ug kalinaw,
kahibolungan ang panghitabo apan padayon lang.
sa paggakos sa bidlisiw sa adlaw sa kalibutan,
ang kabudlay ug kalalylay sa lawas nailisan og kalagsik,
apan timan-i nga ang kapildihan ug kapakyasan dili maoy katapusan,
usa lang kini sa mga sinugdanan sa imong paglaroy-laroy,
apan ang katalagman nga atong nasinati adunay kasulbaran,
salig, dasig, tuo, sugdi sa pag-ampo nga walang pagpamakak,
moabot kanimo ang kalinaw nga dugay ra nimong gihandom.
daghan kaayong balabag aron mawala ang imong kadasig,
apan lungkaba ang imong hunahuna ug kasingkasing,
ayaw padala sa hunghong nga napuno sa kasagmuyo,
bentaha na gyud ang usa ka butang nga adunay pagsalig ug pagtuo,
apan kon kan-on sa kangitngit ang kalibotan,
ayaw kahadlok—ayaw toguti nga dan-on kas kalibog,
kay bisan sa pinakangitngit nga dalan adunay kahayag,
paglaom nga imo rang makita sa imong dughan,
kuhaa ang yawi dinha sa imong giliran,
sugdi na sa pagsaysay ang imong sugilanon,
ayaw kaulaw—walay angay itago, dili perpekto ang tawo,
hinay-hinaya pagbadbad ang hikot sa imong kasingkasing,
sugdi na sa pagbasa ang berso nga angay sa imoha,
tan-awa ang panganod maanindot kaayo—walay sama;
apan nasayod ba ka nga sa imong pagpiyong adunay pasabot,
sa pagsidlak sa adlaw, sa pagsalop sa adlaw,
sa pagmata sa kabuntag, ang kapildihan,
ang kapakyasan, ang katalagman sa kalibutan—
nayasod ba ka nga aduna kini buot ipasabot?
lantawa ang luyong bahin anang mga panghitaboa,
masayran nimo ang PAGLAOM nga napuno sa KADASIG ug GUGMA
sa usa’g usa nga dili mawala bisan pag mapakyas ang tanan,
tuo kaniya—maimoha ang kalinaw nga dugay ra nimong gihandom;
kay adunay kahayag luyo sa kangitngit.
— John Wilhelm.
Just come along with me to the town
where long time ago I bicycled,
walked and ran about whenever
I wanted to smell the fragrance of Saigon
where I raised my hand to salute the
spirits while passing by the Lang Ong
Shrine and bathing my body among the
incense smoke drifting out over the
streets and worming my way away from
the crowds of fortune-tellers talking
endlessly about their understanding of
universe and keeping silent on their own.
just come along with me to the town
where I said hello to people in the
Ba Chieu Market where they yelled and
boasted about their bargain prices
and always be prepared to load
all their stuff on their shoulders and
heads and run away from the police
and jump over all the walls on their ways
while scattering behind with sandals,
sunglasses and hats... while throwing
into the sky their yells and screams – and you
see now, those sounds still vibrate in my heart.
just come along with me to the town
where I have left many parts of me
onto the dirt trails of Dong Ong Co
leading to my dharma uncle’s temple
and please gently step into the village,
please softly move and try not to break the
standstill air here, where you will see
my footprints still visible around the altar
where decades ago I asked the old
monk Thuong Chieu about the way of
Zen, and then he smiled – and now
I would surprise him when he first time sees
a lady walking beside me. My dear, please
walk gently here in my unchanged
village, where you will see the cows still
standing in the field with their heads staring
at the far-away sky, the birds still reaching
high into the sky, the monk still sitting there
with his endless smile, and there the answer
he gave me now still remaining in an original
state: he threw a piece of tile against the wall
and asked if I heard the sound and then said
that that was the way of Zen – you now see
that that piece of tile still remains floating in the air
just come along with me to the town
where everything stays unmoveable,
and unbreakable endlessly, where the
monk and me live like the unmovable statues.
By Phan Tan Hai