Long Basins Poems
Long Basins Poems. Below are the most popular long Basins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Basins poems by poem length and keyword.
lately, i have been in this female mood
for some kind of abandon, that
which exhales the tigress fire
out of my lungs digging the veins
from a week's' routine movements
pruned to the barest of a payroll’s droll…
antiseptic cubicles dictate the rags of
chlorine-infected lunch where rooms
i strut around have nothing except
robotic people, same rye snacks, basins
of expired coffee and files of schizoid
folio..
just outside, the sky coughs
of gas masks rendering a paper bag
of humanity to suffocate on clanking bones
along claustrophobic subways: such a
hemorrhaging day waiting for 5pm
to hiss, halt ,and heave…
i need to dance with the arms of a
jazzy moon fondling my back and
whistling the tunes of recklesness
when all but the spirit lusts for is just a slice
of raw breaths spiraling into tangy
punches of rockstar blues... spare me the cranky
claws of a friday so sore; i alight like
a feline dressed in black lace with cabaret wings,
feathers splattered on glitzy cobblestones...
voluptuous legs hot and wild sniffing sultry
lavender scent of friday night’s parade;
and the band notes howl, free like me.
Carol Eastman's Your Favorite Poem
by nette onclaud
Earth’s natural gemstones thunder down
Miriards of multi sized scattered diamonds tumbling
trained jewels, beads, roll down roof glazing
Tiny shards of light begin to bounce, dance and reflect magnificantly
At first twinkles of days sunlight peep from behind storm clouds
Enters sunrise, day breaks
Vast darkness of night-times tears quickly disperse
evaporating to the brighter warmer climate
Nature’s tears are quickly dried
Outside still few mirrors remain reflecting the skies and beauty
Besides these little basins of wonder
patchy shadowed pavements still damp retract
As temperatures rise I recollect musing over shrinage of moisture
Just as the tides retrace their steps back to the oceans
But who ever sees their journey thereafter
The cycle of life continues whether we notice or not
So every droplet wasted counts
As climates change so must we
Earth and sea compositions alter
It’s down to us to make a difference
To help preserve and protect the living species
and precious commodities we need for every day living
before these treasures are lost, gone from our world altogether
Richer or poorer are we crumbling our planet
At the cost of bling we run down waste holes
Or leave to trail the land around us
Are we throwing our futures away
Should we not be evaluating the cost of new things precious
The waters of life, catch them if you can
Earths natural gemstones thunder down
2/24/16
Made my own observations
While following through on obligations
Certain materials came into contact with the process of oxidation
As I always respected conservation
Unfortunatley the same could not be said for all occupations
And methods of operation
Realize this bit of ancient knowledge, many conversations
Got lost in translation, all across the basins and nations
You could make a never ending story of compilations
Life came with unlimited combinations
Of complications
But it was never enough to break my concentration
Spirit or willpower, as I stared up at the constellations
Above cities with high populations
I made my own modifications
Through many optimizations
I understood that many desired accomodations
And strictly believed in consecrations
I could never respect or help anyone interested in world domination
Or narcissism and self-nomination
Especially if they speak of others like an abomination
I'm so very far from religious, but I can tell you now with a certain degree of confidence
And a much higher consciousness
That will lead you to a path of eternal condemnation
By: Dalton Ogletree
A madman pushed me off the track, lucky not much harm
I sat in the Hospital waiting room with just a broken arm.
They handed me a form to fill, 20 genders, 10 types of race -
I tore the sheet with my good arm and walked out of that place.
I walked past a park, a man dropped a syringe, gave me a stare
I walked past a crazy woman preaching to the air.
I walked past teens speaking to their phones but not each other.
Saw expressions I couldn’t read - an enemy or a brother?
I remembered the in-crowd whose moral sight was blind
I wanted to leave their dubious fads behind
I walked past the demonstrators, their justice leads to blood:
We may need a Noah's ark from the oncoming flood.
I walked along the Palisades, the river on my right.
I perked up because the old roads, the boat basins came in sight.
I jogged on the Long Path, crossing Bergen County, then Rockland too.
Turned inland and ended up in a children's petting zoo.
There were the black hats - Jews of a Hasidic sect.
I spoke with one woman; she looked at me with undeserved respect.
It was a change from the jaded people I often met
Wondered what the secret was, is a religious way correct?
Those Jews might not surf the internet, they might not watch TV.
And when they move en masse into a town they spark animosity.
But what struck me there was something clean and true.
As she pointed out the exotics in that petting zoo.
Since then I've been to Lancaster, where the Amish live an older way
That lifestyle has its drawbacks too, there are always shades of gray.
I've visited Salt Lake, where Mormons spurn drugs for recreation
A visitor described them as the handsomest in the nation.
I like my way of life, but other ways make me think
Do we really need social media, or drugs, an evening drink?
Would we be better people, if some things we didn't know?
Should we stand against the current, or go with culture's flow?
Do we really need the likes, the scroll that never ends?
Can we stop and read a while, or try to make real friends?
Can we set anchor in a place where lies don’t get through?
Can we cure our sick republic, retain what’s proven true?
Headwaters,
Of the world’s flowing souls,
Cresting to flight and misting rainbows.
Everyone.
Searching for another.
To endure sacrifices behold,
Cascading
Heart’s ladles dip into
Basins of memories in plunge pools.
Waterfalls,
From the rapids of youth,
To the flat waters of golden years
----------------------------------------------
Contest: Some Form of Crystalline
Form: Verse : Parallelogram de Crystalline
11.02.14
----------------------------------------------
Received an NA in the above contest.
Entered in Edward Ebbs's contest: Only for those NA's on 01.23.16
The contest calls for an explanation of what the poem means to the author:
This poem is a summary of life.
Headwaters=birth,
Cresting=growing up,
misting=your effect on others and the world,
'searching for another'=could be spouse, money, God, or just yourself, etc,
Sacrifices=what you traded for what you wanted,
cascading=life, time goes by so fast
Once you reach old age, hopefully your waters are calm (flat), and not still turbulent or made turbulent due to regret from choices and the trades you made in youth.
Brenda and Banron bounced slowly on his boat
as the brilliant sun sparkled brightly on the glistening water.
Big and burly he was the boy she sought after in her book.
She smiled bravely as his battered pole slipped smoothly
through the babbling blue surf leaving the sand far behind.
"But why have you brought me to this barren sad place?" Brenda spoke.
Banron sized her up, staring blankly into her soft beryl eyes.
"It is seven leagues beyond the barrier reef that we are bound," he said.
Sea gulls skimmed lazily across the bow of the bobbing boat
as it slowly yet bullheadedly sloshed sprays of salty brine
into brackish basins starting to fill under the benches where they sat.
The sun was intense, battering her senses and beading sweat on her bosom.
"You better take me back Banron," she stated as their destination drew near.
The breeze blew stiff from the opening in a cliff soothing her hot breast
as butterflies stressed the bile in her bubbling stomach making her want to barf.
Believing Banron simply saw her for her body enticed her emotions,
but now she stirred self consciously as he gazed at her from beneath his brutish brow.
As the boat smoothly slid into the cave, before her she beheld a dark brackish stream
"You don't seem to understand beautiful Brenda, I am not Banron, I am Chanron the boatman
and before you lies the river Styx, now, one silver coin, if you please, my sweet baby."
09/19/16
amare tumi Ashesh
Unending a bliss from you in me , mystic thy muse is such a sweet amen
quenched once, rejuvenated again, life reborn, endeared , again and again
So many valleys en carved so many river basins, trailing through delta ashore
My knickknack harp chanted your lungs to breathe beyond embellishment
so many times a chord for so many more
Patsy a churn, i yearn here to happen with my shenanigan, feeling t'was unanimous once more
With your divine an ode My soul sharer , wisdom retold , my reverie heart song
as the flight soaring high through rythm , rhyme and the ecstasy divine joys knew no bound
a handful of me
my catapult reverie
tantrum of my another may, my mundane trivial everyday,
and the bittersweet trouble belongs to me, only traveling back to me.
Tagoreweb : Artist : Singer : Moumita
(“Conceived in Light”, 2017, original encaustic)
Miss Information
Everywhere you look
Everything you hear
Reverberates and reveals
The seductive power of Sophia
Catching our eye and ear
Whispering morsels of truth
Seeding our own discombobulated minds
With enough material
To sustain a hundred Amazon basins.
All that fecundity
Just brimming with potential
To tear us down
And in turn
Build us up again.
This is the nature of light after all
Filtering into even the darkest spaces
Planting its seeds
In elemental photon form
To one day awaken
Within the dawn.
(5/21/25)
4/14/17
Across the ages
There was many changes
During the beginning, middle and end of phases
Above and below any stages
Some left to be found, written upon pages
Leaving a lot or little to if any traces
Among any places
Considered tiny or spacious
Regardless of their being nearby basins
There is nothing funny about starvation
Nor the greed of certain corporations
Makes me have more rage than Jason
With a hockey mask, causing mayhem
Current situations
May have involved more complications
Close and far from any vegetation
Currency came in different faces
Among many nations
Or federations
Above and below the basement
Near and far from any pavement
People making and taking payments
Due to desperations
Some continually gave into temptations
Had hesitations
And made zero preparations
Meanwhile others reached the intended destination
Achieving a state of elevation
After much determination and hard work, followed a possible celebration
Or revelation
With concentration
Have some motivation
From within find more inspiration
While making adaptations
Throughout trials and tribulations
Many civilizations
You can see in person, or only through illustrations
Certain locations
Full of radiation
And/or known to have a dangerous reputation
Still yet to be proven with a solid explanation
Continual paranormal investigations
Regarding anything, accurate portrayals or misrepresentations
Unknown or famous
It was or wasn't caught on surveillance
Crystal clear picture quality or blurry with some grayness
Rituals conducted on certain occasions
Some of which involve shamans
Meanwhile apprentice or master, blacksmith and masons
May be wearing protective aprons
Working on something considered complex or fairly basic
Near and beyond any waters with or without crustaceans
By: Dalton Ogletree
[Inspired - with much gratitude - by Jan’s poem
There’s No Knocking On Heaven’s Loo Door
and Caren and Tom’s comments on it]
***
The toilets in heaven are cold on your ass
The angels believe that they’re all made of brass
Turns out the reason the lavvies are cold
Is that all those loos are eighteen carat gold
Heavenly shoppers had been sent to Earth
And told to buy goods of exceptional worth
The best baths and basins and showers and so on
But do not return without something to go on
One of those shoppers was sure in fine fettle
Sought out some toilet pans in precious metal
He came up one short of his gold toilet goal
He needed another so that one he stole
The owner told me that that richest of loos
Was nicked by a bloke with a beard and no shoes
One million pounds for my loo that was yeller
I said Jesus Christ! He said yeah that's the fella
So that’s how there’s toilets of gold up in heaven
They said there were two but there’s actually seven
But heavenly humans are not a bright species
And built up an accumulation of feaces
They looked at the task from a different angle
And now drop it in the Bermuda Triangle
Sailors and pilots are frequently struck
And turn up in heaven all covered in muck
Although they’re in heaven they never seem happy
As they use the bathroom because they’re so crappy
It might be a rumour but what I’ve been told
Is they often cry out…
THESE TOILETS ARE COLD!