Long Backbones Poems
Long Backbones Poems. Below are the most popular long Backbones by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Backbones poems by poem length and keyword.
Alpha and Omega
The reality is that I love men.
They are perfect, just as they are.
Not always doing as they are supposed to do.
Not paying attention to fears that are false.
Strong backbones, fierce fighters for right,
and assailants to all wrong.
Fixing things, making things, creating.
God loved Adam,
and he was made in His own image.
What a glorious fact.
Woman, taken from the side of man,
to be close, loved and cared for.
What a precious gift.
The two become one.
A circle is complete.
A family is born.
Children the blessing.
For some if not all.
The greater gift,
the spiritual walk,
with each other,
through life,
and its ups and downs.
Depending on God in all things,
knowing that He is with you...
both.
Black clouds writhe, winter dancing Waka Waka
tumultuous River flows where rainbow trout jump
far in distance she waved with our babe
now both are gone with orange Spring daisies
my legs become logs in this turmoil of liquid
Remembrance ~
Remembrance ~
let legs do the walking across the dried up River
where orange Spring daisies bloom nevertheless
women with babes walk slowly along its banks searching for buried Love letters
primitive trout have laid down their backbones
Waka Waka is unnecessary ~ the war is no more
Wars continue across the planet unabated
human spines under bushes or frying eggs
Love still rules the roost at varying depths
babes are both fat and starving
daisies but for one day orange and white
Rivers run torrents of tears at Spring
he watches rugby team doing a Waka Waka
Remembrance ~
woven into nervous networks with dances
____________________________________
Writing for contests, is often a crapshoot!
Some may be teasers, and others no brainers.
Results often open a new can of worms,
though sponsors with backbones, will stick to their guns!
Plagued by the screams of dissatisfied rhymers
whose dreams of a win may have gone up in smoke!
But a poet's class act, is to take it in stride.
Don't be hung up, keep your eye on prize !
Wearing war-paint is a taint on the pride
Don't have a fit, ... be quick to decide
Stoked by the turn-on of writing excitement
We are caught in the cross-hairs of P. S. enchantment !!
Write with a zest that will stick to the ribs
Write for yourself, and find joy in the race
There is no disgrace if you handle with grace
Hold up your head, whether win, lose or place!
____________________________________
7/15/15 For the contest "Colloquialisms" sponsored by Laura Leiser
You can draw with the yellow ink
while I draw with the green one
Take your yellow ink
and you will sketch the islands of:
Grand Bahama, Abaco, Cay Sal Bank
Bimini, Berry Islands, Andros,
New Providence and Eleuthera
against the dark skin of my backbone
Now I will take my green ink
and will sketch the islands of:
Exuma, Cat Island, Long Island,
Rum Cay, San Salvador,
Conception Island,
Acklins, Mayaguana,
Crooked Island, Samana Cay,
Ragged Island, Little and Great Inagua
against the light skin of your backbone
Finally we both will take our inks
of azurite shades of blue
will shade in the bodies of:
The Great Bahama Bank
The Little Bahama Bank
The Tongue of The Ocean
Exuma Sound, The Bight of Acklins
and the Florida Straits
against the flesh and backbones
of each other like human canvases
together forming a unique
little archipelago chain of our very own
to embrace the proud Bahamians
we are both on the inside
There was a time when the great, gridiron classic,
Was the ultimate in athletic pursuit.
But lately, the evolution has been warped, by
Policy & standards that have served to dilute.
Most of us familiar to the game, have seen it grow,
Both by player dimension & injuries sustained.
Where now the skill resides in one's ability to
Bend the rules, as long as most are entertained.
Specifically, players have become much bigger,
Stronger, and faster in the past, say 40 years.
And if you recall your basic physics, that's a
Recipe for extreme forces and many tears.
Yet during this same period, you'd think
The equipment would develop & protect more.
But what I see is a noticeable reduction in protective
Padding, and some has been put aside to ignore.
For example, knee pads & 'girdles' worn through
Youth, to protect the knees, hips, and backbones ...
Are vanishing quickly among the older ranks,
Breaking speed limits for those sticks & stones.
Also, it could be argued that almost every play in a
Game, has penalties and judgement must decide on degree.
Causing players to skillfully see what they can
Get away with; quite a unique athletic skill set, you agree?
Now for the record, I'm a huge football fan,
And I've enjoyed the game for half a century.
And while I hope the players will compete safely,
The equipment & rules need review for equity.
Yes, yes I forgive you.
I reach, eyes closed, for your naked paws;
for are you not faithful? Like a dog you wait
and I bless you now for your patience.
Mother comes out of you, father to,
and my son makes a cradle for me
with his elegant fingers.
Many backward facing faces
lead me to our surrender -
I to the undercroft and unknowable clouds,
and you to these steps I have carved
into my ancestral backbones
where time has climbed its hand-made ladder.
Yes, I see you now,
you are no longer mist or miasma,
but clear of eye as an infant,
for yes, you are a mirror.
Let me not die this night, and if it must be night
let it be your tomorrow night.
Soon I must pass into that looking-glass
where all is birthed, even death
and all that I have known
will be recorded there, and all that I have forgot
will be remembered.
I will not call you: future, present or past,
If I so thought, or did so call
then there would be no womb for me
in the ever ripening cosmos
of that which has yet to be yet.
Scary people are everywhere.
Weaving through backbones of rain-soaked roads.
Taillights burning A holes in my balding white walls.
Scary people in endless grocery store lines.
Carts filled with poison Pop-Tarts and cheap headache wine.
Dirty-faced children that never smile-
I try and stay clear of their scariness.
But they constipate every venomous aisle.
Scary people at the doctor's office.
A room filled with sick impatience.
A scary piss-faced receptionist knows all our secrets.
Scary doctor ladling out a scary diagnosis.
Followed by a compassionless prognosis.
There is no cure for the affliction of indifference
and the good Doctor knows it.
Scary leaders with scary scripts.
Outdaring other scary leader power pricks.
and their endless scary power trip tricks...
Nonchalantly sending a million scared kids into an early death...
With one scary stroke of a scary green ink pen.
Scary billionaires orchestrating our scary futures.
Tampering with our food supply and stratosphere.
Talking down to a mass of bleating ignorance.
The only time people aren't scary
is when they're hunched over a stone.
Silently saying goodbyes in a salty rain.
Playing taps atop a black umbrella afternoon.
We know you must break the law to join them,
So why are we pandering to them,
Letting them rule too many streets,
And even whole towns.
Is it not way past time for push back?
To grow some backbone,
And say to them,
If you sell our sons and daughters drugs,
And they commit a crime you will get double the sentence they get.
We should also tell them importing the ingredients for making drugs,
Could be deemed as an act of treason,
As they have no regard for the nation,
And may well be helping terrorists flourish.
Can we afford to let these organised criminals?
Posing as gang members grow any stronger,
If we want to be fit to champion the cause of all the,
Bright, wonderful, yet extremely vulnerable children.
Is it not time to give them the message?
That their time is up,
And the choice of what happens next is theirs,
As to whether they want to spend time in the sun,
Or take the chance our backbones will remain unfit for the task.
may be astounding
often gets the heart pounding
this life which we lead
spiraling onward
in expanding cosmic sea
the planet and we
we carry the backbones
our genes allow to be grown
free standing not prone
eschewing timeworn
helping concepts to be born
egos we adorn
rehashing the past
brings relief which does not last
anger rises too fast
beyond good reason
some humans hope to squeeze in
a full afterlife
searching for a role
wanting not half but the whole
how fragile this soul
life but one small blip
upon eternity's tip
a truly short trip
no one avoids death
everyone takes one last breath
reference Macbeth
and yet in the end
while there is still time to spend
this life pleases me
Some children growing up in towns,
Wear sallow faces, sullen frowns.
Streetwise urchins, Jack the lads,
Reminiscent of their dads.
Guttersnipes roam nine to five,
Scrounging food banks to survive.
Toerags daily flout the rules,
Playing truant from rundown schools.
Destitutions plain to see,
With children trapped in poverty.
Urban dwellings, tumbldown,
In the poorest parts of town.
Suburban children lives are fine,
Where peevish youngsters often whine.
For pocket money, mobile phones,
Sadly lacking strong backbones.
Little lords and lady muck,
Born with silver spoons to suck.
Dolly daydreams, demand, designer dresses,
Constantly combing cioffured tresses.
Horrid Hooray Henries, haughty asses,
Pretend to be from upper classes.
Riding lessons, will, in due course,
See little madams gain their own horse.
Suburban life is plain to see,
Where children live in luxury.
Upmarket homes maintained with care,
The sweet smell of success, everywhere.
But the beating heart of any town,
Are children neither up nor down.
These children work hard to succeed,
While helping those who are in need.
Down to earth, no airs or graces,
Pleasant smiles upon their faces.
They live in solid stone abodes,
Down narrow streets and cobbled roads.
No leafy lanes for these progenies,
That are the blossoms on their family trees.
10/ 8/ 2019.
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