Long Balls Poems
Long Balls Poems. Below are the most popular long Balls by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Balls poems by poem length and keyword.
speckled snow and bootprints,
French coffee sips, tire-treads,
leftover leaves like birdy wings.
upside-down pizza, for such
an occasion, slips from cast iron.
the blending of sausage balls,
pepperoni, baby bellas, onion,
jalapeno, parmesan, mozzarella,
provolone, seasoned sauce
and browned crust, unlike the classic -
a finger kiss satisfaction. drip drip
drip of icicles forming, branches
covered in powdered confection.
a snowball, formed by my honey,
in freezer, for a keepsake. realizing
the importance of commas.
in other words the snowball’s in
the freezer, not my honey.
he chats it up about work.
BE AWARE MANDINGO MAN…
Be aware Mandingo man---
Its open season---
The pack-hunting hyena like
Human predators are roaming
As if on an urban savannah safari;
Be aware Mandingo man---
Its hunting season---
Ebony hued panther sheen males---
The game of prey to be picked off
Like coconuts from mothering trees;
Be aware Mandingo man---
It’s shooting season---
The hunters have set their sites
On sable skin male dears
Who must trod urban trail ways
As if cotton balls bouncing on thin ice;
Be aware Mandingo man---
It’s still
Strange fruit
Season---
Today, there’re no sheets to warn you;
Be aware Mandingo man
It’s you know what
Season---
The streets are the new killing fields.
Be aware Mandingo man---
Be aware:
Pow!
I OPENED A DOOR
WAY BEYOND HOME.
I STOOD FOR A MOMENT
THEN STARTED TO ROAM.
I THOUGHT I HEARD
AN OCEANS ROAR.
WHAT I SAW,
WAS UNSEEN BEFORE.
THE HEAVENS WERE CLOSE.
JUST REACH OUT AND TOUCH.
THAT'S MY DESCRIPTION,
I KNOW IT'S NOT MUCH.
IT WAS A CLEAR GREEN SKY.
IT STARTED REFLECTING A LIGHT.
ONE MUST IMAGINE
DAY INTO NIGHT.
THE GREEN BECAME DARKER
LIKE THAT OF EMERALD.
THIS WAS A NIGHT
TILL THIS DAY IS MEMORABLE.
STRANGE ORANGE GLOWS
WOULD GO ROARING BY.
THEY WOULD COME AND GO
IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE.
THE ATMOSPHERE SEEMED
TO RISE AND FALL
WITH EACH OF THE PASSING'S
OF THOSE ORANGE GLOWING BALLS.
YELLOW'S AND BLUES
GREENS AND REDS.
SWIRLING AROUND
AND FILLING MY HEAD.
THE GASSES OR CLOUDS
CREATED FORMATIONS.
THEY LOOKED PEOPLE.
OR JUST IMITATIONS.
SOME LOOK ANCIENT.
OTHERS LOOKED FRESH.
MY DESCRIPTION OF VISIONS
ARE SOMEWHAT MY BEST.
A MOMENT IN TIME
OR JUST A REFLECTION.
THIS ALL TOOK PLACE
IGNORING OBJECTIONS.
IF I RELEASE ALL THE DETAILS
YOU JUST WOULDN'T BELIEVE.
IT MIGHT ANSWER QUESTIONS
HOW THE WORLD WAS CONCEIVED.
OF THE MILLIONS OF DOORS
I OPENED THIS ONE.
ON A COURSE OF COLLISION
SO THE DREAM IS ALL DOME
They walked on stilts, used hula hoops,
Did devil sticks and juggled balls,
Raised spinning plates and, in their groups,
They followed all the leader’s calls.
The 4th grade students who performed
Had practiced just for 3 quick days,
Yet when into the gym they stormed,
Their new-found knowledge did amaze.
All dressed alike, in black and white,
They confidently showed their skills
And to their kith and kin’s delight
Their acts produced both cheers and thrills.
They weren’t perfect, but for sure,
No matter if they made a goof,
Their joy was obvious and pure,
Their beaming faces perfect proof.
Who would have thought a circus crew
Could do such magic in a week,
As kids found talents no one knew,
All unexpected and unique.
There stood that tall gumball machine
With those colorful round bubblegum balls
With the clear glass pedestal encasing circular rings
So you can watch the gumball fall
In his eight-year-old little hands
He held the magic that could make a gumball his
That round, ridged, silver coin
Twenty-five cents to bubblegum bliss
But on the counter beside the gumball machine
Sat a circular can with a slot on top
With a picture of a sad little girl and bald boy
From UNICEF which made him stop
He looked at the gumball machine
He looked at the coin in his hand
He looked at the picture of those kids his age
Trying to understand
As we walked out of the door to the store
He said, “Dad, I don’t really like gum any way
I hope you don’t care that I took your change
And to some other kids gave it away”
I smiled the rest of the day
There was a merry minstrel once
Lived on the Isle Of Wight.
He sang and played upon his lute
And kept it polished bright.
He loved to write computer odes,
He wrote his songs in Morse's codes,
And ditties sweet lay round his feet
As he sat in the road.
He believed in minus 1
He liked to find square roots.
He played imagined notes all day,
Upon his master's flute,
But when he felt a mental lack,
His father called in Paul Dirac.
Who gave him twice as many notes.
So more and more this minstrel wrote
Till a catastrophic crack.
The world divided into two,
So I'm not me and you're not you
But we have doubles in the glass
I learned that in my physics class.
One minstrel played upon the sand,
His alter ego had a band
Until a Magus found their file
They'll be back,in a little while,
Walking hand in hand .
The world has cracked
Behind our backs.
There'll be a mighty fall.
We need to build some fiery walls,
To stop the men with nuclear balls,
From making any calls.
Plus and minus don't make nought,
so keep those square roots well apart.
We'll let the mirrored minstrels play,
But make sure you keep well away,
In case explosions start.
Plus and minus interact,
That's what the scientists say.
Nothing is a powerful sign,
And nothing's not going away.
Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak
Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose
Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me,
quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes
Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet
Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder
of where you have stepped before
Crisp white blanket glints
almost winking it’s Christmas card welcome
as it’s vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning
All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew
Nothing seems out of place
A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy
New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape
Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another
Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition
to offending hand and screams of pleasure
Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly
Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels
Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman
Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow
Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go
Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head
Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model
Returning with woollen hat scarf
carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features
Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived
For mother nature’s hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle
A Flood of Tears
When tears glue eyed lids’ tar to balls of fire
and tear apart a soothing balm called resolution
as tar defeats the lysosomes of ragged vision
a third eye calls for sixth sense in a sickened time
a cry for a cry decries a festering splinter inside out
When shackled chakra invites distorted sounds
sticks on that loopy tone and tune in endless loops
as hearing plasters mucilage in mutilation’s muteness
a third ear of quietude invites a healing frequency
a voice reprimands cacophony and beats the drums
When smell exudes a sewer’s skewer
taste falls foul on buds and buts again
touch lost its grip on grapple’s clench
and rotting leaves leave decomposed what’s left behind
one message remains to battle out the wreckage
There is no phoenix no panacea no external healing
no clever plot to complete the warring conqueror’s return
let alone no algorithm or conceited panoply of ease
but only you can change the things you try and can
and everything starts with longing length for suffering to cease
How to get JUSTICE !
News of brutality associated with rape daily flashed on News Paper
makes me hyper losing temper
Most victims young girls minors children even old ladies not exempted.
Victims are bound to undergo repeated medical examination
What appropriate comment
should I put, against society, administration and beasts in guise of men?
In most cases accused get freed in bail after few days’ custody,
unless rape being followed by murder.
Court cases extend through years after years.
Even when the crime is obvious demanding no proof,
Mockery of witnesses and lawyers plays big drama in court.
Very few cases get conviction also after long seven years or so.
Being a woman, I am humiliated, shocked and shattered
I wish, I had the power to punish the criminal.
Have you seen that guy who does painting on TV?
with close-curl hair like his landscape greenery,
although he is a genius that's to be sure,
and with him what's less is definitely more.
I remember my feeble art attempts at school,
but managed to retrieve my reputation from being a fool,
somehow my crap turned out to be not too bad,
however, the expectations can drive you mad.
Now, a 'wash' turned out to be a thing of beauty,
shading, grading, as tho' it was still running to me,
my art master said that we're not all capable of 'magicals,'
and that everyone's seen a prick and two balls.
One wonders how Da Vinci may twitch in his grave,
thinking of all the wonderful work that Michaelangelo gave.