Long Boarder Poems
Long Boarder Poems. Below are the most popular long Boarder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boarder poems by poem length and keyword.
The summer of 2000
stuck in my mind for eternity
A sight that I'll always love to see.
There was a lot of bad
very little good and
I remember the bad
way more than I should
While bad things did happen
without a doubt
That's not what this
is all about
Eight days of vacation
had NEVER been done
Was there any such
thing as that much fun?
Fun in the mist of Chaos at home?
Did we dare pack up
the car and roam?
The vacation was planned
and the hotel paid for
so we finally decided
to head out the door.
An eight hour drive
with a stop in between
South of the Boarder
which we had all
never seen.
It was finally in sight
through the bright sun light
Myrtle Beach here we are
I had wished on a star
that we could all go far,
far away from where
the bad things are.
Were we far from
where the bad things are
or did they all get packed in the car?
The next eight days
went really GREAT
Staying home would
have been such a mistake
A hotel room with a
microwave, fridge and a sink,
plenty of room for cold things to drink
Out the door and down the steps
there was the beach that was truly the best
The sound of the waves
and sand between our toes,
no better feeling would we ever know.
Lots of crab legs
and steamed spiced shrimp
Our plates piled high
we could not skimp
Early morning runs
on the beach in the sun
really were lots of fun
Late night walks in the sand
bought us closer than we ever did plan
An amusement park
with lost of rides
Putt putt golf and
water slides
Go cart tracks
so many to choose
Who would win and
Who would loose
Lots of cars
so many to pick from
it didn't matter,
we all could get some.
As the days went by
we had lots of fun
from the morning sun
until the day was done
Eight days of fun,
peace and quite
Months of saving
so we could buy it.
When it was all said and done,
we had proved that we
could all have fun,
Fun in the mist of
chaos at home?
YES, way more fun
than we had ever known.
No matter how bad
things really are
I'll always remember
that summer by far
Eight days of good things
that will forever be,
the days that went
down in history.
Form:
How did RED CHINA implement its very own depopulation agenda and thereby eliminating 90% of its own population? ***
It all began with declaring a small margin of only 5% of its population to be their national enemy! And having another 5% of its population bury their dead bodies! The 5 % of the burial detail became their very next 5% of their eliminated population.
These inhuman monster activities continued until only 5% of their entire population remained! They were selected to become brain washed (brain dead) by being indoctrinated into their RED CHINESE propaganda machine!
President Joe Biden only pretends to be concerned about vaccinating his own population!
Every day multitudes of illegal unvacintatedl immigrants of are crossing our southern boarder and being admitted into the USA! Already benefits our people are being allocated for them and thus depriving our own people! RED CHINA is giving him and other progressive politicians money to destroy the USA!
Concerned citizens need to call the House of Representatives before 2 PM EST and tell them: Do not pass an infrastructure bill of trillions of dollars which will place our children into the third generations into debts they can never re pay!
They need to call (202) 224-3121 for Washington State and tell them to stop selling out our country to RED CHINA! And to secure our southern boarders or be voted out of office! They need to call other members of the House of Representatives also! And to stop rigging our elections in their favor!
They need to tell them their children belong to their parents not their school districts and the government. Who only seek to brain wash our children! And yes electric cars will only cause more pollution than gasoline ones! .
We need to act accordingly and to vote responsibly by voting all of those political traitors out of public office! We do not want Red China to complete its hostile take over of the USA! We need to humble ourselves and to pray to God for our deliverance from all evil especially RED CHINA!
Sincerely,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
August 22, 2021
True love - In him was the breath of life given, now the Creator Greatest creation (man)
asorb's the life of a human being. Being, from the image of an Omnipotent (GOD) from above.
Real passion - Let there be light, now the Creator begin's an unfallable phase of power
and passion. He-he spoke into existence the foundation of his world, he take's dark-
ness and maketh day and then he say's the firmament that shall be the water of the earth
he loved it so, that he place fish and whale's and all the creature's for the ocean, and it
gave him "Satisfaction".
Unity - In him (Adam) was there True Love bestowe unto him (Eve) and God (The Creator)
test their commitment to him by the will of obesience. They fail, mankind is seperated
from the Unity of the Creator (GOD) plan's and Sin that even challenge's the explorata-
tion of an Omnipotent Order as it enter the temptation of man. Adam as intelligent as
he is. The creator who hates sin so much. Has to come full force (In his own order) with the
"lust of the flesh", of his creation. But he who is the All-Mighty his thoughts is above
mankind best thought's. He employ's Noah for a mission of Unity. And if you never
have experience true love in your life. "Read About It", (Bible) I quarantee you'll find
answer's to question's that has put a bitter taste of confusion in your Boarder. (limitation)
(E)verlasting love - Many of us think love is found lying on our back's. Many think that
little piece of meat hanging between our leg's (Men's) is the source of true love.
But by the time one figure's out the "True Meaning of Love". Year's come and go, and
the sun will have shine upon your morning's over a thousand times. Everlasting Love -
that Adam & Eve overlooked because of unbridle feeling's, that told them differently and
this manifested love, when it is found will smile upon you knowingly and with possitive
meaning. Ressurrected love onto Heaven(and from the grave) can be seen in the beauty
of a Dove. "Finding True Love".
I’m calling the Suicide Hotline,
This sad Cowboy poetry is getting me down,
I’m looking for a happy thought,
But one just can’t be found.
I’ve got a case of Cowboy Melancholy,
Depression of the deepest kind,
A malady that causes Cowboy Poets,
To think only in disparaging rhyme.
Perhaps you’ve not heard of it,
It’s a little talked about affliction,
That sneaks up rather slowly,
And attacks a Cowboy’s diction.
It starts with Cowboys talking,
About having to shoot their horse,
Or the death of the very last Longhorn,
And Cowboy life having run it’s course.
They tell about being stomped by a bronc,
About how women will break your heart,
Don’t say there won’t be no more Cowboys,
Please, just leave out that part.
Death, dismemberment, getting gored,
It makes me sorrowful and morose,
I tell you these gloomy Cowboy poems,
Boarder upon the verbose.
Is there nothing to say that’s amusing?
Or perhaps a bit light-hearted?
Is Cowboy life, nothing but strife,
And all about the dearly departed?
Does any one remember,
When Cowboy poetry was fun?
I tell you we got us a Crisis !
Quick ! Someone call COW-1-1 !!!
We need some recitation resuscitation,
If Cowboy poetry we are to save,
Go easy on that couplet verse,
About Cowboys in unmarked graves.
Hook those paddles to our pencils,
And everyone stand clear,
Shock the daylights out of us,
Till we write Cowboy poetry delightful to hear.
I vote we form a support group,
With a name somewhat synonymous,
A two-step Western program of sorts,
And call it Cowboy Poets Anonymous.
I suppose I could surrender to the urge,
Recite just one poem of despondent refrain,
But I took the oath, and from this day on,
From this Cowboy Curse I’ll try to abstain.
" Hi, my name is ________, (fill in the blank!)
and I’m a Cowboy Poet... "
Copyright © 1999 Debra Coppinger Hill
I look outside and see the snow
running from the clouds
and even though it’s hitting the
pavement at top speed, it lands ever
so gently and silently.
This phenomenon amazes me
every time it snows, which by the way
may or may not be very often where I live
but it does happen every year.
It really is quite beautiful to look at
when it covers everything like a beautiful
white fluffy blanket. My eyes wrinkle
at their sides as I smile at the beauty
of earths white crown. Children’s voices
ring with laughter playing in the soft
newly created playground and snow blowers
start their engines with a loud roar.
Also this happens every year.
I sit here in my warm cosy living room
with my fireplace burning, enjoying the
warmth inside and the beauty outside,
until nature calls my dog to come check her out.
I open the door and the cold air slaps me to reality,
and those green eyes of mine turn greener as
I think of my neighbors south of the boarder
who are still walking around with shorts on,
and despite the cold my envy burns every year.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
12.17.2014
Contest: The Green Eyed Monster
It would be disingenuous to say that Ingenium did not have a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich for breakfast. It would boarder a lie to claim the same deity did not begin their morning exercise with a job through the unexplored corridors of the memory and imagery. The halls of memory are charted to an extent, but the cathedrals hidden down the vast tunnels of imagery seem always foreign and new. There Ingenium stopped to smoke a cigarette, leaning against a door marked "wooden". Neighboring this door were others, each with a replaceable placard screwed into the hard-wood. "Plastics" one read. "Trees" read another to Ingenium's left.
Propped up by the "wooden" door, they watched blurred figures move behind the tinted glass window of the door before them. Dark letters were craft-fully painted onto the glass: "Office Furniture". There seemed to be an argument over vague physics terminology being held between two shadowy characters in the office space beyond the tinted glass. The abstract entity could only make out a few mumbled words, something about work force equaling applied pressure divided by ambition over availability. The banter failed to impress Ingenium, and the muse snuffed its cigarette against the oak molding of the "wooden" door before continuing its job.
They passed other more decorative doors like "religion" or the red-white and blue striped door labeled "politics". It wasn't until Ingenium reached the door to the self that they stopped and released a sigh. Reaching down with unfathomable presence, Ingenium turned the red glass door knob and opened the door before it. A world of light and darkness poured out, flowing through the deity like whey through a screen. The curds that collected there were the substance of the soul. The cheeses that we ate that night were the mana of life, to be consumed today and gathered again on the morrow.
DEAD END STREET --WHY do dead end roads Exist
"Are you my enemy, if you’re not my friend?
Alternative exit without exit should be posted dead end
When “Google” tells you turn right at the bend
Daylight night time Run Johnny Run gets dark at ten
~
Its GPS systems “Google” shows and tells you the road there
Maybe curb site lodging house in front of thee
As connecting when they actually do not trail, where?
I fell off the rugged deep end plummeting free
~
Keeping wheels on the road round, round you go
Rounded end to facilitated to slow, flow on cul-de-sacs
I driving off the freeway, spinning my way to and fo
Up down alleys down yield, slow, stop, dead end signs surface
~
Disconnected streets filled with trash cans, homeless and police
Crimes and gangs’ darkness rends why do dead end roads exist?
Limit through-traffic in residential areas.
Conjure up visions of quiet suburban bliss,
Curb line barrier curbs sidewalks houses meet barriers
Far removed from dangers and noisy high-speed traffic
~
One with low wages and no hope of promotion
No speeders, skate boarder, permitted on the shoulders
Cul-de-sac deadlock stalemate blank wall blind alley
Catch me if you can you can’t I am running blindly
~
Short street with a bulbous end, or even to the end just a portion
Why do neighborhoods have dead ends?
A long road that is a no-through road and terminates abruptly
All those speed bumps, curbs, Cul-de-sac deadlocks not our friends
~
Dead ends are added to road layouts in urban planning
To limit through-traffic in residential areas no one carrying
Is the dead end a road or street, an alley or sidewalk meet
No through road or no exit road,
Is a street with only one inlet or outlet?
When you come upon a dead end"
11/13/23
DEAD END STREET Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
"I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs no poet has ever painted
Voices call out to me, straight to my heart"
Cold, emotionless, and her nature, defiant
Hard to connect with as well as unreliant
A boarding school for outcasts such as Wednesday
Revenge for brother, brings on her sinister way
Dysfunctional families—ivory towers make wagers
Enrolled are lost souls and morbid teenagers
Like Arkham Asylum, a long and brutal history
Medieval mayhem come to life again in her story
Nevermore Island, Romania’s Nevermore Academy
Unconventional practices become their enemy
Designed for students with extreme personalities
Who don’t think their practices convey abnormalities
Is an all American coming-of-age supernatural
Tangled in spider silk or it’s web, which is factual?
And there it is the unscrupulous psycho-therapist
A principal’s shapeshifter and her sorceress rapist
Forcing thoughts back into some semblance of order
Werewolves, vampires, gorgons, and sirens who boarder
Are the architectural texts with applications ubiquitous
And the requisite archaic desperate mass exodus
Dark long tresses, paints it black in gothic dresses
Many who are romantic interests she addresses
Rises to an ovation with a most clever shadow dance
Sanity, reason, balance, rationality, and much arrogance
Behind the smiling facade of normality where lie derelicts
There lurks a psychopathic serial killer, and other convicts
Beyond their control, declined their world of decadence
Insanity, lunacy, madness, the outcasts show no evidence
Highly severe psychological and physical illnesses?
Or real paranormal abominations and alien devises
Guiding her are messages from the beyond with passion
Her lecture combined intellectual lucidity and compassion
Here lies my notepad, covered in scrawl, my pencil rolls on to the table
I watch as it rolls and suspect it may fall, but it stops at the edge, balanced and stable
The cloth it is on is yellow and blue, sliced into squares of three inches or so
Not every one has the same hue, but it's waterproof cloth and useful for dough
There are mats on the table roughly stacked, big ones and small ones, kind of cyan
and marbled indigo patterns are tracked, round the neatly drawn boarder of coppery tan
A stainless steel trivet spirals beside, bright in the sunshine, it's hurting my eyes
The daffodils in their blue vase abide, the sweetest aroma doth rise to the skies
I sit here on one of five chairs, all wooden and carved, and matching the table
And because my wife cares, each one has a cushion, but you'll not find a label
She made them by hand, and each one is tied, with bows in the corners to stop it from falling
To the carpet that's blue upon which they stand, with delicate swirls and flowers it's crawling
A cuckoo clock hangs on the wall by the window, it's occupant hidden and quiet for now
But when he pops out and looks just below, to one side is a painting we love and how
It shows some puppies who run round a bend, one of them trips and slides onto the frame
Beneath the picture a pipe doth wend, to a radiator that's white, they all look the same
Behind me stands our pride and joy, a dresser of magnificent proportions
top shelf holds a wind up toy, and in the back a silver platter, reflects the room with weird distortions
Here we keep our trinkets and glasses, safe from the danger of falling or dust
And as I write the morning passes, my coffee mug's empty, there are chores to do and I fear I must
PD's dare was "Can you really poet and rhyme everything around you"
MUSTANGS
The ground shudders, and shakes,
Under pounding hooves.
Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
Freedom's native horses challenging,
Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
Mixing with hewed grays.
Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
Aftershock,
Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
Magnificence.
Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Thanks.
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
Under universal skies.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN