Long Ball Poems
Long Ball Poems. Below are the most popular long Ball by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ball poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh,my dear hot star sun, You are the mother sky's son, Daily you are born in the east, And slowly dies in the west. Oh,my dear big ball of hot gas, You reflect like luminous glass, Day and night are made by you, You're the day star of the sky of blue. Oh,my dear sphere of hot plasma, You give heat to earth chasma, Are you help plants to grow and alive, All organisms need you for life and live. Oh,my dear shining eye of sky, You're center of solar system close by, All the planets revolve around you, Your gravity keeps them in orbit true. Oh ,my dear big burning lamp, You make wakeup all in the dawn camp, People worship you as their creator, Without you living things can't live greater.
It was the Halloween Ball
In the season of the fall
A mysterious bachelor called
To the attention of us all
The biggest mansion party
The cooks food is hearty
The host is definitely tardy
For most of his own party
The musicians play the last dance
The men try to romance
But don't stand a chance
For the host is here! They glance
To a man dressed in black wear
In Old Spanish attire bare
The women began to stare
For he was a young stallion, a Mare
From a top the stairs he walks
The ladies gather to stalk
The man who doesn't talk
Like birds they came in flocks
He wore black clothes and a red sash
White trim and a black mask
To find a dancer is his task
But who will he ask?
The only girl not drawn to attention
Is sitting alone no words to mention
He takes her hand There is no tention
Soft as a doves wings a cool sensation
The proceed to the middle of the floor
She doesn't know what's in store
A lot of musicians come in..there is more!
Some of them rich, some are poor
He takes his tunic off then starts
The music is written from the heart
The stand at attention far apart
Then the solo with the silver harp
The drum beat starts going
They come together emotions flowing
His risque' dance he is showing
To her mind he is boasting
They move and dance like magic
For five minutes the song's romantic
The crowd watching in motionless static
The songs end was very tragic
The last beats were hard to miss
They drew close and started to kiss
For her it was a mystical bliss
His every movement caressed her lips
The awkward silence he starts to leave
The young lady can hardly breathe
She starts to faint...she can't see
The wings appeare and she falls asleep
The girl awakes in her bed it seems
In her school clothes it was only a dream
The sound of water foils the scene
Her eyes still blurry it's hard to see
She wanted this for real
Her heart is sealed
Then fate will have to deal
Her new loves appeal
She notices something on the ground
It's the wings and mask she found
And a CD blank is bound
She puts it in and the sound...
Is the unforgettable song
It was to her so long
But there was something wrong
Where did this come from?
In the CD case is an Old Engligh letter
It said "Undoubtedly for the better
I am gone with the weather
Your kiss I will always remember forever and ever
Form:
It's about time we talk of ruins.
So, let us talk, for you never know,
How long ears of hope will remain receptive.
Your lips are missing, and your kisses fall,
Like ripe plums and tint my confession,
Like coffee stains with smell of rust.
Looking back, dreams had stories,
About laughters blooming in dews on trembling grass,
With roots growing into layers of blue skies.
That dark sweater you began knitting,
Lies lifeless by a woollen ball,
Like buried half of a rainbow.
My greys are silvery now, and my smile
Looks like a scar, but my heart
Keeps shredding dead skins.
Footprints covered by caddish shadows
Of hubristic tongues,
Never to be retraced, and
The wish to carry your whispers beyond life,
Scavenged by beaks of time,
Is nothing but a piece of
History's torn chorion.
Entangled in my pensive repentance,
Memory of a girl (assuming),
Whose playful steps ruefully erased
Even before she was assisted into the world,
Stares back from an obsolete painting.
I sense blood seething in my veins,
But with no ill-will.
If only i could stop this hour from passing away,
And touch life one more time,
Gently and wisely, perhaps sweet palpitations
Would be heard knocking from within.
Lying in the heap of fallen bricks
Of dilapidated castle of Eros,
Where, once upon a time,
Our romance was folktale for angels and fairies,
I'm supposed to be bleeding the high-noon sun
To feed yesterday's vampiric fleas.
My body no longer lives on bread and grains,
But on tears and prayers, and
Keeps on living, surprising the undertaker and
my foes,
Who begin to think
I am here to stay indefinitely.
So, I labour to hasten my swan song
To gladden those who want to witness my exit.
The yarn with which
I began weaving a flag,
Has been sold to brothels of politics,
Where patriotism is only a slang
In perorations of capricious pimps.
My nights are haunted by ghosts
Of betrayed slogans
I once coined on fisting graffiti.
Standing amidst graves of words
Spoken inconspicuously,
I see soldiers placing putrid shocks and
Ugly boots
On books strewn across the floor
Of my old school's library
Which is now a fortified barrack.
But when I see tombs sleeping like babies,
In quietness of a cemetery,
I beg you -
Don't let me die without a wound, and
Even if it is in pretensive nostalgia,
Bury me with bloodstained kiss.
(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
"Never mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing.
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve was picking up. This Griggs guy
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.?
……… … .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.”
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.
(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
after years of working &
raising the kids, whom both adopted,
ended up with problems that came from
undisclosed heredity,
the two had put aside a
nest egg, as so many did
in their generation,
growing up with parents who
remembered the depression &
what it was like to have nothing---
hearing everyday that
“a penny saved is a penny earned,”
putting together a life for themselves
while taking care of their own parents
as they passed on
as people do, as we all will,
they thought that when illness started to show its face
in the latter years
that retirement & more time spent
nurturing each other back to health,
would be the most appropriate way of doing things &
so it went---
mother was the first to walk into the hospital
to get cut up &
upon returning home,
father had to take care of her, full time,
so he retired early---
at this time,
the economy was said to be doing “well,”
and nothing was being said of the atrocities to come,
so father, always trying to be fiscally sound,
invested a good portion of their savings,
thinking that over time, it would multiply,
like the broker assured him &
the two would be able to stay retired,
living off what they had saved,
as had been planned---
but father was next into the light blue gown &
being told there was cancer growing inside him,
the worry shifted just as mother was getting better,
to the new horror---
& while the two worked on keeping each other
emotionally sane, while their own bodies started to
give up on them,
the meltdown came,
like a tropical storm of immeasurable proportion
sweeping in from some angle that couldn’t be detected
by any formerly successful means &
the unplanned agony began.
the money lost by others with whom a working couple
had put all their trust,
could never be regained &
their bodies now exhausted by a life of work,
recovering & enduring illness,
would have the most difficult time trying to make it again
in the 21st century work force---
so as the stress came on full
the strain joined in &
as the strain & stress pummeled them both,
all that was left was the re-mortgaging of their house,
the last thing they wanted to give up,
that very vital shelter over both of their heads,
now being hocked in the system’s pawn shop,
allowing them nothing to pass on to their children,
allowing them to never stop agonizing over each passing day
wondering just when the ball will completely drop.
“Jealousy”
Jimmy had odds to beat, one he was a black teen and the temptations of big city’s Streets.
But a single black mother’s determination held his attention sternly,
So he had only Minimal interaction with streets.
He had rickets but Jimmy could catch any ball.
He ran with a gang that like to brawl,
Then he entered a Youth Center where a Mentor introduced him to football.
Pop Warner he’s leader of the team,
Onto High School Football team as runner for TD’s.
Scouts without doubts offered degrees.
Mother’s pleased when he goes to USC, to be toast of the university.
Jimmy rode football like a Hell’s Angel rides his hog.
He played halfback, fullback carrying the ball.
Top backers called, packs of women clawed,
Because for a rental car he ran through a mall.
Sydney was a naive Germany beauty queen,
Blond haired eyes emerald green.
Done nothing much since she jumped with the school cheer team.
But she had dreams, being famous on T.V., a celebrity.
But she’s stalled in the Pokipsy Mall,
Serving chili, hamburgers and hotdogs.
When in comes Jimmy, walking tall, followed by his enthralled.
Each sees the other and head over heels each falls.
Their love, sweet, she felt entitled to be,
With the famous Jimmy.
After their affair they married, two heirs, beach house on Bundy Street,
Her face on T.V. with Jimmy, her dream is complete.
But Jimmy believes in slavery,
Believes possessions are bounty one forever keeps,
And Sydney is his property.
But black eye secrets don’t keep,
So she and her parents agree, divorce Jimmy immediately.
Jimmy falls, fell by divorce when the gavel falls.
But most of all,
He felt affronted by the German goofball in front of media tell-all,
So he watches her like a hawk, to see with whom she walks.
She saw a new fella who won her heart and Sydney falls.
He wines and dines her many times and shows respect to all.
So Jimmy waits, pissed off jealousy he has no date, until one night on her Ronald calls.
Greens seethe engulfs Jimmy from head to feet, it shuts off reasoning.
Disrespect for “The Great ME” is all he sees in this rivalry for his property.
He sees she succeeds with this non-minority.
To the door during their adoring greeting Jealousy creeps,
Like Flash he slash the throat of the one he knows,
Then at speed stabs repeatedly the one she greets,
As he tries to flee from Jealousy.
I stayed awake all night listening to the sounds fighting with the night and battle raging in the street erupting my heart beat, one bad news after the other the body lie waiting in the gutter and the morning crowd kept walking on without a music or a song, and I said to myself what on earth is going on?
It is the question you usually hear when the dogs’ barks late at nights and the stars over your head are shining brightly and hope looks at you from the window. You cannot read it; you cannot understand it and you cannot deny it.
It looks like a pecan pie rolling sitting on the table with shoes and hat getting ready to connect the dot and the man in the dressing room is walking with a gun strapped to his side and a beach ball bouncing in front of him.
I am still wrestling with this heavy feeling inside it is not pain or any form of physical aliment, it is the environment and its occupants that is sucking the raw energy out of me and the urgency to tell a prolific story. I can’t tell it alone; I have to tell it in a night gown with incandescent lights around my bed and a bulletproof roof over my head. When the tension fades and morning weight subsides, we will write this story together and it will serve for the next century.
The temperature is rising and the squirrels are coming out of the ground they have fist like man and sand to cover the entire land. They are running up and down the streets trying to escape the beguiling heat but the sun creates a simple track and mercy is holding on to the rock with the pipers and the minstrel playing a merry tune
It is not the rhythm that you usually hear or the one that is saturated in the atmosphere, it is not the sound of death that is running the marathon around the track, it is the formula that you dig out of ice and the jewel that is sold at a very high price, it is the type of rhythm that make me feel nice. For one moment the cluttered space around me evaporate in thin air.
The window is wide open in my face and I can see everyone that entered the race, they are still walking under heavy burden covering grounds and surveying the town, and looking for substance all around but just before 2:00pm the ship will dock in the harbor and you will have fine spices and tea for th rest of your life; the window is open wide and I can see you standing in awe gallivanting with your new bride.
Once upon a time...
Once upon a time, in France, a storyteller fella
Wrote of a girl named Cinderella,
Meant as a fairy tale romance.
Her daddy died when she was young, and she was forced to share his riches
With three monumental b****es,
A most unhappy circumstance.
For years her stepmom and stepsibs made her perform a menial's duty,
And as she blossomed into beauty,
They grew more hateful, mean, and cruel.
Each night they dined on fine cuisine and wore lace dresses with silk sashes,
While she wore rags begrimed with ashes,
And got just crusts of bread and gruel.
Then one day a herald from the king demanded entry
To the homes of landed gentry,
They were invited one and all.
It was the prince's eighteenth birthday, and the king and queen were harried
Because their son was not yet married.
Ergo, the reason for the ball.
The stepsisters primped and preened and wild excitement they exuded,
When Cindy asked to be included, they gaped at her as if appalled.
Stepmother sneered, "Look here, I'll show you!"
With self-righteous indignation,
"Your name's not on the invitation.
Just we elite are so installed."
So Cinderella went downstairs to seek some solace in the kitchen,
But 'stead of sittin' there and b****in', she started dancing with a broom.
She whirled and twirled around the floor,
Or else she'd stand there, gently swaying,
As if an orchestra was playing
Pretending they were bride and groom.
And then a flash, a crash of thunder, and to Cindy's stunned amazement,
There gliding through the kitchen casement,
A pudgy lady dressed in blue.
She said, "Hello, my dear, no fear, I'm here to grant your secret wishes,
I'll wave my wand and clear the dishes,
And make a princess out of you!"
She waved and tapped and flicked and zapped,
And what she seemed to make the air do
Was give her make-up, nails, and hair-do,
And then to make the look complete,
Out of those rags so soiled and worn and far too torn to drown a cat in,
A gown of gossamer and satin, and crystal slippers on her feet.
Without this timely intervention, Cindy's tale might have been tragic.
Could she have managed without magic,
And her dilemma be resolved?
But everybody knows what happened with a gourd and six white mice,
And how a smudgy scullery maid was made to clean up really nice,
When a fairy got involved.
To be continued...
I write in remembrance of the late Dennis Liwewe (Zambia's No.1 and Celebrated Football Commentator). Here is a short football commentary:
"Ah, this is Dennis Liwewe. We are here in Mauritius, where the two sides, Zambia National Team and Mauritius National Team will battle it out this afternoon. Capacity crowd 40,000.
The referee is from Kenya and match commissioners from Nigeria and Senegal respectively.
At this point in time, the referee blows play on , and Mauritius team take the ball back to their goal keeper. A loose ball pass the centre circle, a bad pass by Zambia we are in deep trouble, Only to be saved by the Goal keeper Efford Chabala. This is no other than Kapambwe Mulenga, defending very well. Ball zooms out for the throw in. We are beaten in the air, Ashios Melu picks up loose ball, he beats a man in a double one two situation, he kicks a tumble, which is well chested by Kalusha Bwalya ( popularly known as Great Kalu). Great Kalu beats two, three Mauritius defenders. Great Kalu within a firing range, hammer. It's a gooooooal 1-0 to Zambia. Back to the studio for our sponsors. Mauritius are coming in a counter attack situation, their dangerous striker is breaking even, Bomber. It goes away. Again and again, Zambia takes control of the situation here, Efford Chabala pumps a long ball passes the centre circle, we are good in the air. Kelvin Mutale dribbles two Mauritius defenders, hammer. It's a goooooal Zambia leading by 2-0 . Second half , Mauritius are very aggressive at the goal, they want to equalize. We are in deep trouble again here, sliding tackle by Kapambwe Mulenga, and the ball zooms for a corner kick for Mauritius. Headed away by Ashios Melu, a little pass to Charles Musonda, passes the centre circle, he turns 360 degrees. He passes the the ball to Kelvin Mutale ( the master dribbler), it's a gooooooal, 3-0 to Zambia. We are in the dying minutes here,
And the referee blows the final whistle. This is Dennis Liwewe signing off. Pick it up ZNBC studios in Lusaka, Zambia.
May his soul rest in eternal peace
Concept by Zambian Sports Lovers
Poetry Chipepo Lwele
Note: Dennis Liwewe made Zambians to love football in the 70's, 80's and 90's when we had 2 band radios and few television sets, we were glued to the radios young and old, less educated and highly learned. He made sure that the message is loud and clear.
9904
9904
CharlaXFabels
Ninenintyfour
Autofixation
A Dialog Fabel
Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new
auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box.
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too
important.
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that
guff so early in the mourning.
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so
dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl
mabe.
Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not
understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight
zone. This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the
receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT
program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's
watch what happens…
Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc
cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was
compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe
and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was
letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she
HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW.
June: something is almost forcing me to use this new hardware it's an alien tech
rippoff of an image of the MOON it makes me want to dress up and wear my
cape out.
Charlax the Narrator: The Bosses Computor is slowly being eaten up by the disc
all the contacts on the every list are gone the moral of the CharlaXFabel number
9904 poor gentle reader ewe is never use a disc program to enable accounts not
meant to be edited by ewe. The computor is now gone the disc dropped to the
floor lets go back and see what happens now…
BOSS: walking in to his office to check on his computor and June Smithster: well
that is not funny did the android charlock pick up my computor for cleaning
again?
Charlax the Narrator: but there is only silence from the corner of the room where
June is laying down curled up in a ball of Supergirl costume her cape lay furled
around her like a hobo blanket cover…