Long Bobbles Poems
Long Bobbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Bobbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bobbles poems by poem length and keyword.
Helel: "Housed the many who sought refuge like a stingy malamute that can cross the chicken's road searching for it's mother damned to rivers too."
Aurora: "By a willow's sinking arms, the gallant gilded lake is foreseen, like thespian oarts that call but two sparrows, so the sun rises primed like shaven arrows."
Samael: 'Ora I have steamed too many clams, but too is the frog in my throat befitting calm lambs, so it bobbles like Robert should know, that froggy transgressions are foggy to most."
Samara: "Simple, the dimpled roads lead east of the old Nile, I have becoming erstwhile this most tiger-eye styled."
Uraeal: "I have but one curse that may open a door, after all not every curse is meant for the maid-of-honor at death's bridle-veil door, so should you seem to enter that foyer take a cold breath this fall for which a 100 years moils."
The Pro: If I can't keep the tapes, how will we discern the true course, which over rapids too bobbles like the true course of true north?
Gladius: "Have we bettered the Monday high sun? Are the bitter-sweet fruits not faulty when won?"
(Anonymized character): "Too much of the orchard for now, I have carry-weight burdens that must rest in peace for now."
---End of act III---
She's awash in contradictions.
Though you just might fall in love
with those big doe eyes.
She'll put you on a pedestal.
To her, you can do no harm.
She is a friend to the very end.
Still, she could bring you to your knees.
She dislikes being rude, crude, or vulgar.
Though she will straighten out that picture.
She doesn't like negative or toxic people.
Not necessarily shy, just aloof in her ways.
As she's dreaming of some magical place.
She loves sparkling bobbles and dancing till dawn.
She'll cry at the movies or the slightest of slights.
She'll invite the angels in from out of the cold.
Sometimes you'll think she's afraid of the world.
But give her a cause, then you'll see.
That steel backbone and endurance in adversity.
You might think she's most adaptable.
As you try to bend her all the wrong ways.
She'll say, you can't make me do it that.
Then she'll laugh as she's walking away.
At times she'll need reassurance from you.
Things will be OK, she just might not want to,
Jump off that cliff today.
As she whispers goodnight in your ear, she'll
Ask the angels to keep you safe and warm.
You might think she's a bit scatterbrained.
Till she shows you what you're looking for.
Yes, she might be a hope chest in contradictions.
But, she'll leave you with a smile, as she moves
the tides inside you all the while.
4 pm 7/ 13/ 2013
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
Solid gray skies
Over daylilies trying to bloom
Several different species so colorful
Open only a day, live life to the fullest
What have I done with my nearly 29,151 days
Birds fly in
Mostly to feed from birdseeds
The feeders need a refill so they can eat
Those birds usually fly in, overfill before a rain
Another day of possible showers so they have to eat
Fresh seed put out
Mockingbirds zoom across flowerbeds
Land, catch a bug, zoom out
Another mockingbird lands on the cement
Bobbles along like a roadrunner
Redbirds flock in
Hit the red feeder that matches his color, perfect camouflage
Boy, he is eating gourmet food
From the buffet
Rakes out what he doesn't like
Sparrows fly in
Feast upon the discarded seed
That landed upon the cement
They gobble up those small seeds
Fill up in just a small amount of time
Female red cardinal
Flies in and lands on a wood feeder, aged, grayed with time
It seems to match her color perfectly
She is harder to see since she blends in
She fills up and flies away
Amazing
No susurrus in the pines
No crows cawing all the time
Just the symphony of songbirds tickling my ears
And the cymbals clanging out woodpecker's notes
A few minutes out on the porch
How it makes my day
Now a zephyr begins to move
Stirring the asparagus and spirea
Wow! A break in the clouds.
The sunlight beams
Casting its morning light
Across my wildest dreams
A flower garden with more plants
To feed the birds, bees and butterflies
Thank you
God for your creation
For your gift of flowers
A mixture of clouds, rain and sunshine
All of life upon this earth
On the day of your party
Please be sure to invite
The Drunken Clown.
He offers steady humor
At a pace everyone can measure.
His drinks, give love and laughter ,
his expressions: love and empathy.
In a graded lawn he falls and tumbles,
His eyes red and bleeding,
Look to him to point and laugh.
Our drunken clown gets his payment
In full, pursuing the right wingers,
And guffawing with the left.
His sincerity bobbles in an ocean of booze.
Cheers and Slaintè to our drunken clown.
Salud, and Prost!
To our home
And I sleep the sleep
Of a thousand filtered souls,
In ungracious betterment,
And a hope to die by my own hand.
Vicious visions of a youth undocumented,
And a prayer I never have the balls to do it.
Years are piled in slouching display.
Dust bobbles on a sunlit window,
yet the small ragtag shop is dingy,
without and within.
Its second hand put downs,
left to clutter;
emblematic of one life with another.
There are other items, trinkets and
baubles, fleetingly made attractive,
in the glint of a few golden rays.
I see the ivory handle of an umbrella,
its shaft and canopy half-hidden beneath
a jumble of garments.
Could it be that its grasp
is old genuine ivory?
I see a slight surface crack
on the u-shaped hilt.
Yes, not a faux simulation,
almost definitely elephant tusk.
Shall I go in,
buy this half-buried treasure
for a paltry amount,
or should I walk away,
ecological principles intact?
Today, in the hallway
it is leaning against a small table.
It is raining.
yet I hesitate to be seen with it.
"My precious,"
I mutter to myself.
A fugitive from society,
A fugitive from the makers of the nook,
A prisoner in my special school,
A convict to the female OT department, look.
Not needing occupational therapy from a woman,
From a girly woman who had no depth,
Who used Yuhu to stick a philosophical view of life onto her,
Who used bobbles, hairspray and lipstick maroon;
Who represented inequality in healthcare,
Where there’s so many more women than men,
Who validated your parents fully,
Before they cheered up your ben,
They didn’t meet me, but did play,
Without going out of their way.
But it was all my fault abstractly,
Although i know it was not because i was only two and three quarters,
When i replied to the doctor that i was ok when i was not,
When i answered to him about what was within, about what I’d got,
Instead if replying to him straight.
The other doctor, the school doctor has done fine with me though,
And i never ran away from him,
So he helped me with my problem at university,
When we were both studying to win;
I could talk to him at anytime at school,
Supposedly, because the other kids shunned me for talking to him too much,
Since they thought that my slow physical development was funny,
Not worth inquiry or pout,
When i found it an injury stout.
But I learnt that society wasn’t the initiator of school medical structures,
That they were different, that my culture was not delinquent,
And that i fitted in neatly and with eloquence,
To gain my independence and not sin;
By intelligent society i was accepted,
And could overcome and win.
MY
PLACE IN THE SUN
a life without
giving is a life not
worth living in
truth my mother was
right,
but a life in a home
unsafe and alone was
all that was in my
sight.
upon considerable
reflection their
abuse and rejection
made absolutely no
sense,
but being a kid I
took it I did I was
too young to take
much offense.
alone in my room I
did contemplate doom
in the laboring
silence of night,
and hanged my head
with thoughts of
dread with no
glimmer no inkling
of light.
but I made my way
out although filled
with self-doubt I
was unable to face
the truth,
that I had been
changed by the onset
of shame and my
suffering for years
is my proof.
grown up in the dark
with no sense of my
heart lusting for
bells and whistles
galore,
with shoulds and
must haves and
quotas to mark life
left me empty and
longing for more.
in search for truth
throughout my youth
I found money and
power and fame,
I was distracted by
the lie of glitter
passing by all for
the sake of my name.
now I find myself
thinking on days of
my drinking and
years of chasing a
lie,
the cheating, the
fighting and
constant denying of
a self so consumed
by false pride.
I want to emerge
from the dark where
my hope ignites
spark and my mind is
no longer obtuse,
where the veil has
been lifted with
heart freed to love
and with mercy I
embrace my truth.
where speaking in
verses and walking
with purpose I could
shine brighter than
bobbles I hold,
under shadows of
trees with the earth
beneath my knees
where there’s
treasures for me to
behold.
I’d have no fear of
new faces and could
be in embraces
instead of the whirl
in my head,
and humbly ask
questions and wait
for the answers and
be free from the
pain that I shed.
with a new found
confidence from the
hand of providence I
could feel like I’d
finally won, a life
that is lived from
the inside out if I
could just find my
place in the sun.
I just can’t wait till Christmas
I just can’t wait till Christmas
With thoughts of ice and snow
And Santa in his bright red suit
Shouting ho ho ho.
Flying with his reindeer
With presents on his sleigh
Delivering them all by midnight
For us on Christmas day.
We put lights and bobbles on the tree
We do it every year
And a sign post in the garden
That says Santa please stop here.
He comes right down our chimney
With presents in his sack
And we leave him milk and cookies
So he can have a snack.
I wonder what I`ll get this year
As I know just what I’d like
I hope I get a scooter
A skateboard or a bike.
We`ll dress our dogs like reindeer
In little reindeer suits
Put little antlers on their heads
And four black shiny boots,
Listening to our favourite songs
Played by a big brass band
As we take a trip to Edinburgh
Through the winter wonder land.
Hats and scarves and gloves on
As we wrap up nice and tight
With the markets lights and funfair
It`s really quite a site.
Merry go round and rollercoaster’s
And a ride on the Christmas train
The big wheel and Santa`s grotto
Then we do it all again.
Everyone’s on holiday
And their faces all aglow
Their worries left behind them
Like footprints in the snow.
Crepe`s and chocolate pancakes
And strawberries on a stick
Sweets and treats and doughnuts
And I get to take my pick.
But my favourite is the great big tree
That`s too big for my home
And it really smells like Christmas
As we go inside the dome.
With lights and decorations
Like you`ve never seen before
They`ve travelled the world just for a glimpse
And they`re queued right out the door.
With winding vines of holly
Around the pillars it does grow
And no matter what the weather
They always have some snow.
Then Christmas day is best of all
With presents under the tree
There is some for mum and some for dad
But most of them for me.
Unwrapping all my presents
And nothing has been missed
I got everything I wanted
On my Christmas list.
Everyone comes for dinner
And dad fills up his belly
Then snores for an hour on the couch
As were watching Christmas telly.
Now I just can’t wait for Christmas
As I count the days and pray
But mum just shakes her head
And says its only boxing day.
We adorn ourselves with bells, bobbles, fringe and tassels
Our 'chic' is our own to form our attire, our home is our castle
Pick and choose for every angle of space and form - a look
A style we can call our own to fit our mood, penchant or outlook
New trends excite our willingness to display our artistic passion
Our mood, sensibility and appetite for every mode of fashion
Concepts of beauty that come in all different shapes, sizes and colors
Become a living, walking work of art for us to share with many others
Like butterflies we transform from our rustic simple cocoons
To blossom like a flower in spring brightly displayed to swoon
Its an illusion of magic, a love of change for all to behold
This passion for fashion brings us a feeling that's solid gold
November 25, 2019
Fashion Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julia Ward