Long Blare Poems
Long Blare Poems. Below are the most popular long Blare by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blare poems by poem length and keyword.
A hint of helping this wholesome Harris son
can across thru the air
Hence this poetic expression
of gratitude Matthew Scott wants to blare
And communicate my genuine
appreciation crystal clear
Toward one whose existence
more valuable to me and dear
As thee doth become older
with natural diminishment with eyes and ear
But lo…tis unproductive to fear
The diminishing sands
of mortal time as cognitive gear
Doth get clogged as well as one
or the other organ allowing ye to hear
The sound of silence echoing
memories of the past – now a blur
Akin to a warm fuzzy feeling
soft as moss or lichen – precious as a coat of fur
Which tomorrows speed faster
becoming yesterday’s lore
Mixed with trials and tribulations less or more
Thickening as starch and ever more difficult to pour
From the egged on noggin blended
into one glob kept in secret store
Perhaps comprising partially healed wounds
at your heart tore
As if a drafted soldier once
in tiptop shape now to the bone years wore
Away whet dreams housed
within myths indistinguishable from truths of yore
Though I too sometimes fret
as tempus fugit slinks away
Where methinks how the years spin
at a quicker pace each day
Inculcating me to savor each moment,
whether weather sunny or gray
Taking stock of self of natural world
as one named John Jay
Audubon, who captured pristine lands
of America as a frieze zing May
Whereby bounteous creatures
large and small at play
Until…the inundation
of settlers did slash, burn and slay
Indiscriminately - setting precedent
for Earth in a precarious balance oye vay
Whence Mother Nature
will win this global Olympic match – yet
By which time, both thyself
and ye will be long turned to ash
Descendants will be dust off
faded photos of me self
before senescence did dash
Totally unaware that me papa Boyce Brandon
with clenched and teeth did gnash
When I fought tooth and nail
and without a word did lash
Back as protestations against behavior
of mine ye disliked and found rash
With frustration spilling forth
like acidic froth that did splash
Slash and burn within,
yet kept mum no matter
from within did thrash.
I LOVE YOU TOO DAD
NO MATTER BACK IN THE DAY YE GOT MAD
YET NOW, AS A FATHER TWAS FRUSTRATION
PERHAPS FUSED WITH BEING SAD
AT MY LIFE & HARD TIMES WHEREIN
TURMOIL ROILED MORE THAN A TAD!
Written: August 06, 2023
______________________________________________________________
I evolve at my own rate; I won't be defined.
By the expectations that others designed
In this journey, I'm the one who decides
To spread my wings and let my spirit glide
I am elated and pain-free, my heart is light.
No longer burdened by darkness or plight.
I've learned to let rove of what doesn't serve.
And embrace the love that I truly deserve.
I do what suits me; I follow my own path.
Not swayed by opinions or society's wrath
I listen to my intuition, my inner voice.
It knows what's best; it's my guiding choice.
Angelic and improving—that's who I am.
Constantly growing such a blooming dam
I may stumble and fall, but I rise again.
Stronger and wiser, ready to transcend
I evolve at my own rate. I select my time.
Not rushing to fit into anyone's rhyme
I embrace the beauty of my unique pace.
On this journey, there's no need to race.
Love holds and supports me as a gentle breeze.
Wrapping me in warmth, putting my mind at ease.
I am surrounded by those who truly foresee
If I ever reached who you wished me to be.
The beauty within me, the worth I ping
Their love lifts me up, makes my heart sing.
I sieve happiness and control my emotions.
No longer controlled by external commotions
I release negativity and blare off the weight.
And embrace the joy that awaits.
The universe's words are being heard today.
I am unsealed to its messages, ready to obey.
Being appreciated and worthy is my claim.
No longer seeking validation or fame
I cognize my worth; I am beyond my blend.
I am a butterfly, ready to ascend.
Artless to healing, I spread my wings wide.
Embracing the light, letting rove the tide
As a raw day begins, I am optimistic.
Not as tied as the ties that were once so intrinsic.
I grasp possibilities, the endless skies.
I am ready to soar and reach raw highs
Unleashing the inner butterfly, I cast flight.
Leave the darkness that gripped me tight.
I soar through the clouds, my spirit set free.
Embracing the beauty of my own evolution
I am a masterpiece, a symbol of revolution.
Unleashing the inner butterfly, I am reborn.
No longer constrained by time and space,
I evolve at my own rate, with grace.
No need to rush, no need to flee,
I am blissful and pain-free.
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
2:45 am
I set my case in the corner, empty the picks from my pocket
and kick off my shoes, it was a great night
She tosses her purse on the couch, blows me a kiss
and heads to the kitchen, I love watching her
I can hear her humming that song, our song
A few candles lit, she returns with a couple of beers, some lemon and salt
Plops down on the couch next to me with a giggle
Puts her feet up on the coffee table
A swallow of beer, knowing I’d rather swallow her
Leaning over I kiss her, soft and warm
She climbs over my lap, straddling me
Kissing more passionate, more intense
She pulls off my Kurt Cobain T and caresses my chest
Her moist lips find my neck, it becomes hot in here
I remove her shirt over her up stretched arms,
set it aside and hold her close
Her skin feels so good on mine
as our lips once more collide in passion’s desires
My mouth traces the outline of her beautiful body,
she grips my head and guides me
Flickering candle light dances, creating twin rhythmic shadows
I grab a lemon slice, dripping its tart juice on her flesh
It tastes so good, her skin becomes my lemonade
as her love adds just the right amount of sugar
“That’s for the beer dummy,” she laughs
but she doesn’t stop me, why would she
Her hands on my shoulders, she leans back
and her soft moans are now my music, her body my stage
Biting my ear she whispers, “Rock me, rock star,”
She knows I like that, even though I’m not, she makes me feel that way
I stand, lifting her with me, her legs wrap my waist, kissing,
arms tightly about my neck, and carry her to the bed
Sirens blare outside the window, normal for this hour in the city,
as we fall atop the gold comforter, collapsing as one
I gaze into her gorgeous eyes, still sparkling even in the darkness
“I love you Baby” I say, she smiles that enchanting smile and sighs…
”Prove it rock star, play me”
Please check out parts 1, 2 and 3 if you get a chance
The 6th Street I am talking about is in Austin Texas. It is the center of the musical world in that city. You can find any kind of music you like being played live in any of a number of different clubs on this street
There are 4 parts to this series if you care to see them. Actually there are 5, but # 5 would probably be a bit much for this site.
would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?
since this brother in law rarely emails,
ye may scrunch countenance puzzled,
or on verge of emitting flatulence,
that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack),
would possibly find ja propelled,
thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly
sepulchral tintinnabulation
(where for greater effect
yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats
in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back
to the House of the rising sun),
BUT...gnome hatter,
no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme,
why aye dash communique
minus virtual trumpeting blare
(sorry, but in the interest
of belated birthday cheer,
without computer generated imagery)
rendered hoop fully readable,
sans black and white Scottish matted pixels
constituting beloved appellation
unsure how to address ye perfectly clear
while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ,
how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences
comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying
to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable
(of course) with flair
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS
TO SCREAM so ye kin hear
soap hull ease excuse this incurable
Harris scribe with thinning heir
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me
burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair
still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer
replaced instead by vinyl city
all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time)
open farmland did dis app pear
so...a gam bulling gambit
to avoid moseying down Level Road...
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness
with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead,
and mainly wish ye another birth year!
adieu...from math tha hue
When did I learn to walk?
The awkward stance,
a toddler’s uncertain step,
stumbling, falling,
getting up again until
rhythm of feet and
balance work in sequence,
was that when I learned
to walk? No.
When did I learn to walk?
Kindergarten marches,
a military parade of sorts
around a classroom,
rhythm band instruments
in hand, banging on toy
cymbals and drums
to the measured beat
of feet and blare of
prerecorded sound? No.
When did I learn to walk?
Was it the long hours
in marching band
practicing routines,
memorizing music,
and the beating of feet
on hot pavement along
humid parade routes on
July mornings in hot
woolen uniforms? No.
When did I begin
to learn to walk?
From the moment
I held your hand, strolling
by the Strand Theater
on the sidewalks of St.
Paul, along the shores
of Lake Como on
Spring and Summer nights,
through Rosedale, your
hand in mine as we looked
at engagement rings
in jewelry store windows
and dreamed dreams.
I learned to walk
in earnest down
the aisle of
St. Bridget of Sweden,
into a new wedded
life filled with
wonder and love,
the many walks of
pregnancies, Pitocin
drip walks down
hospital corridors,
during nights with
restless infants, and
sick children, to
parks and baseball
diamonds, plays
and musicals, concerts
and gymnasiums,
graduations, weddings,
funerals, grandchildren,
all of them walks
along the spherical
path of life.
To walk with you is
to learn how to love,
each measured step,
a grace-filled journey
to something greater,
far beyond and far better
than the stumbling steps
that I could have
made on my own.
To walk with you,
is to see the
world with different
eyes, colors bursting
through the greys,
warmth on the
coldest of days, your
voice floating, playing
delightfully in the air
alongside until the
sound settles gently,
gracefully in my ears.
We have walked many
steps together in life,
my gait now not as steady,
these days of uncertain
limbs, joints and cane.
In walking with you,
new discoveries never
end, new beginnings
abound, and that
with you, the first,
and the finest of
all teachers, learning
to walk is never
fully learned.
In Boo Land ...
Every gagged mouth is covered
by a grave reeker hand
Raven black-cloaked, vomit foul specter
maniacally sob laughing
Someone’s been tilting the tomb bottles again,
tipping thru the Pet Sematary growling
Inflicting fear is the feral joy of the frightening
Scream suffering
is the howl pleasure of the torture pain
Boo Land,
welcome woe where random killing is a sure thing
Enter his morbid world, if you dare ...
cross the sanity threshold,
if you’re not scared
Boo Land
is an ostrich step out of the front door
Another gun murder
that’s not background check paid for
Fear is the underworld coin of this casket realm
It buys a lot of living dead qualms
about zombie parrot pirates perched at the helm
Scoundrel squawks with a 9mm trigger beak
Green paper caws with a burial holster lease
In Boo Land
is where many a scared souls are morgue laid
Loan shark’s bullet teeth
shred the pound of flesh not vig paid
Violent crime victims don’t get timely first aid
Body spare organs are taken from the gene pool water,
to a black market with a dirty dollar $ign color
Frankie clones in the making ... it’s a steal bolt buy order
In Boo Land
is where many a scared souls are coroner silenced
Feminine intimate violations
are off the haunted frat house charts
Bad boy wolves ravishing the little miss piglets
Misogyny grope temptation,
smear threats plays a finger tool part
Licentious desires are an inappropriate side bet
It’s the same ole heinous, privilege skin crimes,
committed in dim hallowed hall shadows
Canines getting-out-of-jail-free too many times
Another lusty boo-boo is landfill covered
So the boy cried wolf when the public spotlight blare came,
and the news splattered his foster name
Everyone said it was a small-town shame,
that a serial breath-taker said mommy issues was to blame
In Boo Land,
creeping fear stealthily walks upright
The fox in the dressy suit
wanna sweet baby talk,
and coo take you
to the crypt crib at night
Don’t be afraid to
Holler Loud ... or put up a fight,
if you think they got you
in their kill shot sight
Dear Lady Liberty get down with the modern times,
Are we not the land of freedom, let the new rheum
Fill your scents, and let us all rock on!
The world is spinning with a harder edge beat, and
We as Americans thrive on its high power over drive,
The bigger the challenge the smoother the rolling stone!
These times here are rough they say, but a nation born
From this tough working class, just grins deeper, and sings
Louder our praise for the red, white and blues!
Toils tears are soaked within our Levi grains, as we play,
Born in the U.S.A. on those sacred radio waves!
Give me Liberty or give me death, is a history phrase,
We still believe in today, as the rocks blare and burst
Against the nights sky on the fourth of July, and in the
Back ground sound it’s not just noise, but it’s us American’s
Getting it down!
Blaze forever onwards slamming it ever onwards, the rhythm
Of the people, for the people of this nation of Rock and Rollers,
Die hard individuals that make this land worth living for, working for,
And believing in, the message lives on in our words of lyrical pride!
Sun down you better take care, for foreign invader better beware,
For we are the generation of Mr. Lightfoot, and here we don’t
Play fair!
Brothers and sisters gather beneath our flag of honor,
Blessed by God, in fortunes favor, let the golden eagle
Soar forever free above this nation Gathered together
In liberty, and justice for all!
Let the storms rage be as a thundering bolts reckoning,
We are the strong, the people of pioneering generations,
The enduring, the surviving, so just bring it on we’re
Ready for the fight, as we rock the night with our
Torches lit bright, for we are the Americans, standing
Tall and proud!
So let us rock forever, join in the hard core beat,
Can’t you feel those good vibrations, chiming from
That cracked bell, it echoes down those majestic mountains,
Across those amber waves of grain, behold the ties that
Bind us together in a timeless rheum, of humanities
Brotherhood!
Dear Lady Liberty get down with the modern times,
Are we not the land of freedom, let the new rheum
Fill your scents, and let us all rock on!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Condolences Forever Invoked - 9/11/2001
Many unsuspecting innocent lives
unwittingly found themselves
at ground zero
with absolutely no time
to bid loved ones adieu,
and thus with
a metaphorically clangorous
(aire splitting din – bedlam askew
n'er to be silenced),
aye felt near ready,
viz no haw wing,
nor hem ming – waze
farewell call to peace monger...
and arm Matthew
nine one one when
clear out of the blue
a resounding handy
dandy bell lose clue
asper, a fitting notion pain
fully apropos to applaud motley crue
i.e. strangers risk
king life and limb,
would definitely do,
no matter where persons
stationed come thee
ex-tolling bells morrow,
(whence thee fateful
seventeenth anniversary
twill dolefully arrive -
somberly dawning for
survivors and/or next of kin -
less than twenty four
hours from now),
sans unforgettable tragedy
indelibly etched will be recalled
in a blinding
fiery stormy flashback,
where significant lost lives will replay,
when weaponized airplanes
took a kamikaze nose dive
a dwindling cadre,
qua first line of defense,
emergency civilian and/or military
trained personnel jumped
into the blizzard decimated fray,
whereat selfless persons
scurried (helter skelter like)
all abustle analogous
to a outsize bee hive
where 24/7 news
broad casters did air
(nee blast) round
the clock latest bulletins,
could not escape incessant blare
ring frozen like a
life size like sculpture
seated in favorite easy chair
hypnotized by the sheer colossal
utterly incomprehensible dare
devilish a state of emergency,
the then president
(George Walker Bush) did declare
dumb founded, slack jawed,
and wicked deed
waiting for horror
to be recanted as an err
roar overloaded sensory circuits
exceeded threshold,
nonetheless listeners and/or
viewers forced themselves to hear
live coverage far more appalling
than any night mare.
I have no desire to hear the worlds words
rather would I the chirping of birds
to hear the clapping of leaves in the breeze
whirring of hummingbirds wings of the bees
Or the babbling sounds of the brook
the rumbling of earth when its being shook
the patter upon my roof of the rain
the sounds of the city care I to abstain
I love the plunging of waves upon rocks
detest the noise of the ticking of clocks
road blare of wheels upon tar and cement
or clamor of crowds who attend an event
The racket of what some people call song
which clashing smashing banging belong
but the voices of wolves howling by moon
or soulful longing in notes of the loon
the rustle and whisper of wind in the wheat
tender the note of a newborn lambs bleat
expressions of nature when its in play
I want to hear what the animals say
The laughter of children learning a game
squawks of chickens and sheep that are tame
the wail of wind through a window crack
splitting of thunder lighting nights black
The chill on the spine from a low growl
so quiet you can hear the drop of a towel
music that lifts the breath of ones soul
the crackle of ice which freezes a pole
the echoes in canyons when you give a call
snapping of trees when in a storm fall
the rustle and flush the dog and the pheasant
their decent upon my ears very pleasant
I want to hear the sounds of Gods garden
when the trial is over I've got a full pardon
the voices of those whose hearts that I love
when I hear these its you I think of
These are the things that to my heart speak
sounds of the ones newborn pats of baby feet
take me away from Babylon's din
the screeching and static created by men
COPYRIGHT © 2011 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC