Long Below Poems
Long Below Poems. Below are the most popular long Below by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Below poems by poem length and keyword.
We float together above the earth,
The clouds and I.
They form layers.
From above, they are fluffy white and pristine.
Below, dirty gray and flat.
A skim of flotsam that seeks a place to settle.
A sheet of marble.
Then changing to rows of cotton planted
Two on four. Ready to strip and bale.
The ground between shows shadows
That gallop like wild mustangs on the open plain.
They are the darker of the twins,
And remind of the limits of light and sky.
Yen and Yang, the balance.
Each an ink blot that would test Rorschach.
Now becoming forever white like
Deep and driven drifts of snow.
Or, white icing on an endless sheet of cake.
Small peaks are skillfully placed
By nature’s cleaver hand.
Towers of misty clouds climb above the rest
And become smoke from a fire
Or steam from a boiling pot.
Smoke signals.
Moving through the climbing vapor
Gives the ride a rattle and rumble
As driving on a country road.
Windows become foggy glasses that
Clear without a wipe.
The cloud ahead becomes an angry mountain
That towers above and darkens the ground below.
With admiration and respect,
We circle,,,and wait
The bare branches of the tired old tree towering tall
above me creak in the frigid whistling wind
coated in a covering of frosty snow
glazed over with a sheet of ice from
the freezing rain that followed
I have not reached the age to hear such sounds
emanating from my bones that have not yet grown
brittle and easily broken
I still have time
At least a little
Though I know the sand slips through the hourglass
with every second I stand here
I don’t look or feel old yet
Even so my life is likely already at least half over
My mind is as agile and youthful
as it was twenty years ago
How can it be that I see myself in that tree?
It is not what ascends upwards from the ground
but what lies below that is a reflection of me
its roots rendering it resolutely immobile
From the time it first sprouted
it has persisted in its position
It will do so until it dies and is cut down
I who once envisioned myself gallivanting across the globe
do not even possess a passport never having had the need
A prisoner in this place that has never in my heart felt like home
I should be across the sea where my bloodline began
Where my ancestors abided
In the land where they take time for tea
and the Thames flows fluidly past parks and palaces
where kings and queens held court
Perhaps someday I’ll have the opportunity to uproot myself
Transplant my body where it truly belongs
before my own branches begin to creak and groan
under the terrible weight of time
Heaven knows we need recovery from life
like wounded birds of prey we need respite
from those cankerous inkly thoughts of night
for when a tree falls all creatures live in rife
Only a bright star knows how much we long
for pearly doors ajar and welcome arms
I can hear him whilst below whispering be strong
as my weary soul goes setting off alarms
Gladness beams in my heart as the moon smiles
and even the birds soar again, in confidence
I follow His teachings and walk mile upon mile
onto the heart of His forest, onto His dense
God only knows how much I needed his grace
and how much I longed to see his radiant face
Laura Lee's Funeral
1.
We are traveling on the infinite ship
From our forgotten harbor
To our unknown port of call
Beneath impassive stars
Upon the endless, everchanging sea
Towards a sun that may be
Rising from,
Or sinking to,
The Deeps.
It is up to us
To discover which;
The answer lies, I think,
In the voyage.
2.
It is, of course,
A day like any other.
Save that today another traveler
Has gone below the decks
And we know we shall not see her
Walk the ship amongst us
'Til who can say when.
We all go belowdecks eventually;
Some quietly
Some with great fanfare
But we all go
And it is left to those above
Who knew them
To celebrate, or rue
Their time among us
'Til our time to follow comes.
3.
This one we celebrate.
Oh, how we do.
For she was one of the Good Companions,
Those who make the sailing easier
Come calm, come gale.
The Kind word
The Attentive ear
The Helpful hand
That soothes the seas beneath
Stills the storms above,
For which the ones she traveled with
Lived all the better.
4.
We hold our ceremonies
We say our words
When the ones we know
Go below
Into the Hold,
There to await us.
We weep our tears
We dream our dreams
We weave our memories
Among the milling throngs abovedeck.
Until one day or night
Something calls us,
Then down we go.
The infinite ship
Keeps sailing on
Towards that rising? setting? sun.
5.
I think that sometime,
When the Hold is finally filled,
We shall make our Port of Call.
We shall drop anchor,
Disembark;
When we do,
The Good will see a sunrise
The Bad will see a sunset
Above that Undiscovered Country
From whose bourne no traveler returns.
And on that day,
Laura Lee and all the Good Companions
She graced along the way
Will stand and shine together
On that Undiscovered shore,
In the perfect,
Incomprehensible
Sunrise.
October
Late morning light that casts a slanted path from Eastern sky
Upon a decaying terrain of diminished day
To torch the tumble of crisp and fragile foliage
Where a multitude of basking golden shapes rest serene
Waiting for some chilly breeze to set them free
Thus fly and swirl a dance amid the rustling air
Below the bereft and gilded trees of Autumn
A foraging squirrel prepares for Winter dormancy
In mad hatter frenzy and sense of urgency
Before the low lying sun heralds a growing night
Poor tenacious October hopes for brief reprieve
Away from winter’s cruel, relentless hold
To reminisce the heady summer days of warmth
When growth is at its prime in hues of perfection
But October’s glorious colors are more supreme
With shades of golden browns and red that please the eye
Displaying a richness unsurpassed
First frost
To see the spangled coat of frost around is bliss itself
A whitened gallery to strut upon and breath the air of health
To study with awe the convoluted glistening spider’s web
That weaves an abundant intricacy upon the shrub and hedge
The soil is frozen to the spot, its muddy shape retained
A tricky hike for underfoot but a sure and firm terrain
The uncertain air of autumn carries changes to bemoan
Bequeathing icy chills that penetrate right to the bone
Encrusted cars with swirls of ice obscure the drivers vision
But patterns formed within the ice are quite an exhibition
Fair wintry wonderland tainted by the artist’s able hand
Creates new forms that chrystalise like gems upon the land
First frost that cloaks and stills the river and the stream
Glazing the surface with its cool, enough to make it gleam
The summer plant is broken, but the perennials live on
First frost’s beauty is but temporary and sadly quickly gone
BUTCHER PETE
In the vault below lies the mince, of butcher Pete
Got dragged into a meat processor by the soles of his feet.
RADIOACTIVE SCUM
The Russian soldiers who stormed Chernobyl, are buried in lead coffins below.
And in the dark of night you can see, their radioactive glow.
FARMER MURRAY
Here lies the 'aromatic' remains of the farmer Sid Murray
Missed his footing and drowned in a vat of cow slurry.
PUTIN
At his victory parade in Red Square Putin, had a fatal heart attack
And the inscription on his headstone reads, Karma will always get you back.
MANUEL
Below are buried the pieces of Manuel from Havana
Went swimming and got eaten by a shoal of piranha.
SID
A bookcase containing books about the paranormal and death
Toppled over onto Sid the librarian, and they haven't found his body yet.
JIM
Jim the electric clock maker got electrocuted and died.
It seems that for poor Jim, time was not on his side.
BROWN BREAD ED
Baker Ed fell into his hot oven, and was baked with the dough
And all the mourners were given, a slice as a memento.
LION TAMER FRED
In this vault lies the headless body of lion tamer Fred
Who stumbled onto a lions mouth and who then bit off his head.
ARCHIBALD DE WITT
The world famous conductor Sir Archibald De Witt
Was hit with the arm of a trombone and fell dead in the pit.
Written 27th April 2022.
The days keep going by,
and I am still left wondering why
you are no longer on this earth.
I remember the day I gave birth—
a tiny miracle captured my heart;
gazing at you, I never thought we would part.
My greatest joy was to see you grow;
now you are cold and resting below.
What an honour it was to be your mom;
your memory is like a balm,
soothing me during my darkest hours—
so thankful to call you ours.
Why is the pain so deep?
It brings me to my knees as I weep.
I like to believe that you are still nursing in God’s heaven,
bringing comfort I do not doubt for a second,
doing what came so naturally to you—
dressed as a nurse at two is the picture in view.
The calling you had shined brightly in your brown eyes;
I did not know that you would be saying goodbye.
Thank you, dear daughter, for the thirty years;
and now I am marking two years of your heavenly birthday, it appears.
How is it possible to keep on breathing,
or even finding meaning,
when you left too soon?
I should have wrapped you in a cocoon,
as you are wrapped tightly in my heart
since the very start.
We’re off on a hike to the vale below
As happy as can be
The trees are lovely shades of brown
As far as the eye can see
Can see
As far as the eye can see
The air is brisk; the sky is clear
And we have far to go
The temperature is falling fast
And there’s a hint of snow
Of snow
And there’s a hint of snow
It’s cold enough to see your breath
We’d best keep moving fast
The sun is now below the hills
And daylight will not last
Not last
And daylight will not last
The trail is fraught with rocks and roots
They like to grab your feet
If I don’t keep a sharp watch out
The ground and I will meet
We’ll meet
The ground and I will meet
The trail has gotten overgrown
It’s hard to read the lines
My eyes are always looking down
We tangle in the vines
The vines
We tangle in the vines
But Missy doesn’t care a bit
She’s caught the scent of deer.
With all the racket that we make,
They’re clearly nowhere near.
Not near
They’re clearly nowhere near
And then ahead, quite close to us
Just right up on the trail,
I see a bobbing up and down
Of lifted, bouncing tails
Of tails
Of lifted, bouncing tails
It’s such a blessed place to be
Just me and Missy Girl
I wouldn’t have it otherwise
Be elsewhere in the world
The world
Be elsewhere in the world
The carcasses of forests past
lie strewn upon the floor,
And with the wind that’s blowing in,
There’ll soon be several more
Be more
There’ll soon be several more
A homestead thrived here long ago
Scant few stacked stones remain
Did they find peace and solitude?
Or mostly toil and pain?
And pain
Or mostly toil and pain?
I often think about those folks:
With all the struggles that they faced,
If they too knew, just as I do,
The Lord is in this place
This place
The Lord is in this place
It’s time to turn and head back home
Scale up the wooded hill
I’m eager to return again
Anticipate the thrill
The thrill
Anticipate the thrill
Each time I journey to my vale,
I get a hint of grand designs
As though I drew the curtain back
Saw glimpses of divine
Divine
Saw glimpses of divine
I’ll always feel this way. Love can’t be love
which alters where it alteration finds:
my driver, she – no matter how she grinds
my gears. I’d hardly term it, hand-and-glove:
it’s much more like a scrimmage, push-and-shove.
Relationships there are, of many kinds:
but whether pigs-with-lipstick, Golden Hinds,
one party is below, and one above:
one partner is the hawk, and one the dove.
If she’s the cheese, I am the humble rinds.
No matter where this crazy freeway winds,
there’s one thing that I’m always certain of:
a meeting (or collision?) of the minds:
a bedroom where we never draw the blinds.
good morning all
here is another entry to express I hope everyone is safe
at the present time I still remain from reviewing to which I am sorry
I'm certain I am missing wonderful work
I have just read an entry by Anil Deo and this is my response below
to Anil and to everyone
may we all endure and have rested wings
thank you
peace and safety to all
"rested wings"
as each butterfly lives and breathes
roaming life with all she sees
the strongest among them must pause
they endure with rested wings
for a bird who flies far and wide
gliding along skies high above seas
knows his strength to gracefully sail
must remain sound with rested wings
for our souls and for our hearts
living under darkness or stress
the mightiest within us can fall
with rested wings we stand tall
SkyWatcher
04-24-20