Long Bands Poems
Long Bands Poems. Below are the most popular long Bands by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bands poems by poem length and keyword.
Soothing sliding silvered tides, fields of verdant; rolling co-inside..'
Beards of algae flow on wrecks, phosphorescence guilds the whitecap in flecks,
As a mirror shattered myriad shines, to uneven waves that crash in; times..'
Un-counted amounts of wash elapsed, endless etchings have surfs out; scratched..
I see the glimpses I hear that noise, in awe; I observe the power and poise,
Atlantic grey-green, Indian serge, pacific hued, I need to re-visit & become re-clued
The saline reeks, there are nets of fish, tootling tugs, low tide rippling in meek.'
Memories crowds... Of golden sands..' Ice cream, picnic baskets; beer and bands..'
O'er the undulating prairie where grows soy beans and corn,
Generations of premier basketball players have been born.
The Hoosier State of Indiana, where budding talent is so replete,
Where small towns can conquer titans, shocking them in defeat!
Long before lads and lassies leave the cradle to crawl upon the floor,
Dads have hung a backboard and hoop above every garage door.
Seldom is seen a Hoosier home without this indigenous adornment!
The flame begins early in Indiana, stirring souls with excitement!
Ah! The exuberance builds as high schools begin a brand-new season.
Not to support the hometown team is almost akin to treason!
Creative cheerleaders perfect frenzied gyrations honing their skills.
The marching bands look sharp having perfected intricate drills!
Moms, Dads and coaches take pride in their young men and women,
As they mentor, teach and train them to develop their acumen.
Young warriors opposing each other upon friendly fields of strife,
Strengthen character to meet the challenges facing them in life!
A Canadian invented the game using peach baskets and a soccer ball.
You daren't mention that to a Hoosier fan - you're apt to start a brawl!
But Hoosiers don't bother themselves about that, caring not a whit.
Basketball is an inbred thing in Indiana, everyone is happy to admit!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Written at the request of the Indiana Basketball Hall of Fame, New Castle, Indiana,
for publication in their Winter 2004 publication, "Indiana Basketball History Magazine"
I am sitting at my desk attempting at some prose
But nothing seems to come to me nothing to compose
My minds a canvas blank not two words can I rhyme
So I try counting backwards just to pass the time
Then without a conscious reason except for boredom's reach
I open my desk drawer to a mixture of mystique
A magnetic magic bracelet used to cure my rheumatism
Surrounded now with pins and staples an error in optimism
A yellow wooden pencil its rubber now a stub
An unused lifetime membership to some forgotten club
A mechanical lead pencil with no refills in sight
A bottle of used white-out the top cemented tight
Post-it notes with messages which I can't understand
Telephone numbers without a name not written in my hand
Ballpoint pens with dried-up ink no longer do they write
A solar-powered calculator gone flat for lack of light
Rubber-bands that no longer stretch and little bits of string
Two black dice and a deck of cards missing a red king
Sun glasses a mini racing car and a worn-out golf shoe cleat
A funny little package which reads "Silica Do Not Eat
Orange sore-throat soothers now melted to a bar
Finger-nail clippers picture hooks and a pick for a guitar
A polishing cloth and a lucky charm that never seemed to pay
Needle and cotten a used band-aid and a bottle of nasal spray
Screw drivers erasers fluro-pens that have gone dry
Sticky tape a set of keys and a flashy bright bow-tie
This jumble of confusion has failed to solve my plight
I'll just keep counting backwards till I find something to write
between the crown and Bindu zones
the true highest point on our head
a blob of bliss consciousness hones
the touch of God by Whom we’re led
chin chakra holds steady resolve
it is God’s will that here too acts
boundaries blur as we evolve
dance that kundalini enacts
at the centre our heart expands
it is the sacred meeting place
melting pot of energy bands
where time dissolves and all is grace
spine is a seamless band of steel
it too is pivoted to heart
palms and feet too express their zeal
to align fulfilling their part
between eyebrows up till the crown
the nadi becomes our third eye
in bliss mists we willingly drown
resurrected after we die
Distant you seems glowy like moon
To see you in the June, i made up to the dune
Words became low spring well,
Really hard for me to stay dwell.
Smile expressed as a comma,
Revives me out of my mental coma,
Walks never grew old,
Wishing our hands to go fold.
Tempts me crazy not on lust
But on genuine love with no dust.
Shyness shattered my soul
Unable to cross the wall of foul.
Sweats made me to drizzle ,
And bodies too far to cuddle,
Sharing my deepest fears,
To tred away my coldest tears
Darling , I need you in every way,
Its so hard for me to sway,
The warmth i felt in your hands,
Is what i need even after our wedding bands.
Fancy
Fancy rushes by in silk dancing shoes,
Stars within her steps,
All plumes and feather boas
Leaving clouds of spangles, bits of sparkle,
Floating in the air -
Trails of rainbow ribbons,
Sequins grinning as she passes,
Ignoring glares of mauve and mustard
Clinging to sashes scattered with ducklings,
Buttons and bows hanging on
In the spinning tornado of free floating ruffles
As bright colored polkadots tumble ‘cross flowing capes
While beads and bangles, diamonds of dewdrops,
Strings of pearls,
Waltz with bright and shiny spangles
To bounce alongside wild menageries
Of mismatched
Plaids that look cross eyed at checks
To flirt
With spiraling pin strips in diagonal dances
Begging exception from lacy flounces,
Romping through grids
Yellow pink and purple green,
And twirling hems of dizzy fringes
Revealing pearl studded petticoats
Giggling at gossamer scarves
Under the spell of a magic wand decorated
By glittering hearts
To cast a kaleidoscope of spellbinding colors
Throwing greetings to wide eyed stares,
Amusement ogling
Fancy frolicking with Whimsy at her side -
Hugging, embracing, cousin Serendipity -
Ambling down the broad tree lined lane
In gloves and floppy hats with paisley bands
Or rhinestone tiaras
Tripping toward teatime
With scones and clotted cream.
Decade ago, the world laughed,
at the hole in the ozone layer,
the global warming was a joke,
the scientists got ridiculed.
Now a decade later, the ground hog is confused,
the grizzly bears can't hibernate,
the polar bears can't find their icebergs,
The migrating birds don't know their winter destination.
Somewhere there is summer in winter,
somewhere it is draught in rainy weather,
There is ice age in some mild weather lands,
there is spring in the cold arctic frigid lands.
Never heard of twisters in post warm winter,
The bands appear every night from Midwest to the south in USA,
In a blink, small towns get erased, not once but twice,
Families, children get tossed apart, many dies in this natural fury.
The personal and material losses are staggering,
Only hope and faith keeps people alive and surviving,
On first instinct, we may think it to be the act of God,
On second thought, we are overlooking our grave mistakes.
May be the politicians will realize the danger,
Too much of pollution and urbanization hurts mother earth,
What will be the use of being super rich or super powerful?
When the nature will wipe us out in a moment from the face of the earth.
Seventeenth of March is St Patrick’s Day
Great day for the Irish I can honestly say
Paddies' the world over will want to be seen
Wearing Leprechaun hats and a sprig of green.
Loud colourful parades up and down the lands
Drums, tin whistles and the skirl of pipe bands
Sample some Guinness or a glass of potcheen
Be the best street party you've ever seen.
But if you're not Irish still join in the fun
St Patrick’s day parades are for everyone
But make sure you go, you'll enjoy the craic
And I guarantee that next year you'll be back
It happens once a year so come and have a ball
A very happy St Patrick's day to one and all.
Written 16/02/2019.
Poitin anglicized as Potcheen
( Irish moonshine )
~
Sprig of green is the shamrock associated
With St Patrick who used it to explain the blessed trinity, God the father, son and holy spirit.
~
The craic is news, gossip, enjoyable conversation and having fun.
The mess is creeping up into my guts
Giving me a punch. I turn my cheek so it does not slap me.
Clutter tightens the unhappy bands around my heart.
Makes me feel depressed, lethargic.
Energy level is a thousand past zero.
I am helpless now. Stagnant. Immobile.
Overwhelmed, I feel myself shut down.
What would you do it this was your mess? Internal voice asks me.
This irritates me because it IS my mess.
There is caramel corn glued to the end table.
It lies under a pile of toothpicks, aspirin bottles, and eyeglasses.
Magazines, a dictionary, and a half cup of moldy tea.
There could be a family of porcupines in there somewhere.
How about we start small? The voice asks.
I did not think it would be possible to shut me down any harder but it is.
It takes me a month to finally get a knife and scrape up the caramel corn.
In fifteen minutes the entire table is clean.
I feel younger and happier than I have in six months.
I feel alive.
Want to start on the kitchen? The voice asks.
I shut down quickly.
Vets ate free at Applebee’s
To honor them this day,
A heartfelt offer bringing
Good publicity their way.
Lots of stores gave discounts, too,
To soldiers with I.D.
And many took advantage
Of this generosity.
Every town and city had
A veterans’ parade,
With marching bands and waving flags
Quite jauntily displayed.
It shouldn’t be one day a year
To venerate our vets,
Whose sacrifices often bring
Such heartache and regrets.
We really cannot comprehend
How much their service cost;
Survivors often pay the price
For those whose lives were lost.
Our veterans deserve respect;
The military’s tough.
A gratis meal or dollars off
Is great, but not enough.