Long Bubbles Poems
Long Bubbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Bubbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bubbles poems by poem length and keyword.
The Time to Rise Up
Swirling like the waves of the ocean
is all around you
moving and shifting
Turmoil bubbles up
taking hold of what ever it can grasp
Swallowing with its intensity
Don’t let it overtake you!
This is not the time to lose control
It’s time to shine
Time to rise up
You’ve waited patiently for this moment
The glory that you were meant to declare
has come to you
For such a time as this
Your radiance for all to see
You have been tested and tried
Found to be pure
Your brilliance overtakes
All those beside
Rise up, my friend
To behold your destiny
Choose to shine your light
Don’t look to the left, nor to the right
but straight ahead.
Rise higher and higher to greater depths
Mountains be removed
Rise up to shine like the glorious morning rays
Peeking through the skyline until the full day
Dispelling the mundane and dreary clouds
With tremendous light
Burst forth and shine bright
Rise up!
Grace Daub
Oct. 22, 2020
The sangria is made and the hot tub is bubbling
No need with a swimsuit for you to be troubling
Just pour some refreshment in your wine glass
And join us in the tub with your shining bare ass.
No one will stare and point out your flaws;
We all have too many to count
Besides, our vision is blurry as all
Due to the alcoholic amount.
Be free of your worries and free of your woes
Be free of your troubles and free of your clothes
Be free of the tension that daytime can cause
And give your insecurities a moment of pause.
You may be embarrassed for a moment or two
Disrobing in front of these strangers
But you’ll see nobody is different than you
And pose you no immediate danger.
And once submerged the bubbles will hide
Anything you don’t wish to show
And I’ll get up to pour you more wine
Should your glass become too low.
When you’ve done it once, you will do it twice
And many more times after that
The Jacuzzi waters feel so nice
In our neighborly, hot tub vat.
Under the inky façade of the night sky,
With reluctant steps, I joined the stream of men
Flowing to the place of the great celebration.
A huge crowd was already there in the temple premises.
Its vicinity was bursting with colour and flashing lights.
The young and the old, clad in festal attire,
With fire in their hearts and festive sheen in their eyes
Thronged, not driven by piety, but mostly to enjoy the fanfare.
Festoons decorated the trees that lined the compound.
Colourful lamps were blinking everywhere
Sacred bells kept chiming intermittent
At the auspicious hour, as devotional songs rent the air,
The chief deity was brought out of the shrine
And was placed on the caparisoned elephant,
Accompanied by pulsating percussion ensemble.
The devotees cheered witnessing the majestic entourage.
Within them, the fervid spring of joy swelled.
Colourful umbrellas were unfurled,
Drawing synchronized patterns in the air.
An army of hawkers had already set up shops.
Each made it a time to earn some bucks,
Selling knick-knacks and goodies- from ice creams
To popcorn and colourful balloons, to tempt children
The young ones ran around licking cotton candies.
Some enjoyed blowing up soap bubbles,
With iridescent orbs landing softly on their hair and dress.
Under the glare and noise, the heat and sweat,
Amid the tumultuous beat of trumpets,
And the rhythmic sounding of cymbals,
The crowd swayed in psychedelic lassitude.
I was just a mute witness to the whole hullabaloo.
Amid the faceless crowd, I stood aloof, so aloof,
With an abysmal loneliness gnawing me from inside.
I had hoped the carnival would help me forget the past
And drown my scalding pain, but sad memories,
Followed me close to my heels like a mangy mongrel.
Deep down, how I wished I was part of the revelry!
I wanted in my poetry cup
Neither fixed heat nor cold
Sought just to raise it up
Close to your hair gold
No centre is required to write
A poem of beauty or struggle
Rather a fugitive’s might
To bring out those lovely bubbles
We live mostly in thoughts
Of pictures and colors various
Trying to untie the knots
To unleash your eyes hilarious
This is a fugitive world
At the margin of the bell curve
When it is fruitfully unfurled
There is a dance in your nerve
Were there no fugitive thinkers
To mix dream with the reality
No poetry would ever shake the drinker
To draw you close to me
It is an asset dear friend
That the words are my companion
Yes I swerve from the mainstream no doubt
And pursue my pen in abandon
And the result is fresh morning
Green leaves and sometimes bouquets
Many a time they come adorning
Fugitively orange days
_________________________________
March 12, 2016
God has given me heaven and Earth
He has given me all and the fullness thereof
God has given unto me life and death
He has given me eyes as a plain dove
I am the stubborn Ebony people call NIGHT
Young black rock that sit under the twilight
My sacrifices; You reckon
Your love; I beckon
Diamond shaped eyes of clarity and lonely
In full upgraded natural endowment only
That keeps jugging to run in its own design(s) solely
For God has in control the monopoly
Though, He didn't promise to take away my troubles
He has promised to reduce my worries
He didn't promise me always to rise in bubbles
He has promised to turf out my flurries
I stumble across the stone without a bone
A solitary confinement deeply alone
From a barren zone, class lightly transcend
Only in time, I know my mind will mend
Endless valleys and limitless mountains
The beautiful weather here and seas' fountains
The abyss of rotten cavities with no fill
A system no power can unwell its drill
I am scared that this is too good to be true
But while whistle marks its beginning
I am of thought it would come in few
Whereas, the regular time never end its spinning
The blood that passed over without a spill
Passover's peaks collapse into a spellbinding chill
They are trapped; hope never say bye when I still breathe
Unless the gem gush into the Chemistry of untimely death
I am in need of Your peace
I am getting tired of the exclusive tease
Your enablement; my energy
My flaws; Your undying liturgy!
I had this feeling just today.
Had to walk outside, feel the sky
with my eyes... In This Way...
"Unlock"... okay, I said.
Love, the voice in my head.
"Come..." and a.Way it lead...
Glancing around now, to the Tree.
Are you there honey bee?
Hark! An Owl and dear, can you see?
Is the platypus still swimming, Mr.e?
"Check the date". Check to Mate.
How can it all be just so?
A name, the game, voices flow...
with planets, stars, crystals and cars.
~So who's the pet?
Khet.... maybe. Riquochet
crazy. ;) Strum the guitars...
wow! this is even a little bit hazy.
In the fuzz, we can see everything.
Within Love the bubbles sing,
Shuddlebug, got me by the wings.
Ping! ~Can you fly this thing??
Whistling.WordsWing...
Form:
Continued from Part 1
The Beggars ’neath the balustrades,
and broken Children, Chambermaids,
are running wild from wraiths, afraid
of dreams where death redoubles.
They fritter time with tattered threads
(from ragged clothes they’ve left in shreds),
crocheting hoods to hide their heads
and faces, full of rubble.
But many things will not remain
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
when goblets filled with cool champagne
evaporate in bubbles.
The White-Robed Maid adorns the trash
with charnel urns awash in ash,
then fumbles with an untied sash
while pacing in the Palace.
Her hopes congeal in coffee spoons
with memories adrift in dunes;
yet, still she smiles with teeth like prunes
and lips of painted callus.
And long before the midnight drains,
the Saviour wakes, the Loser gains,
the waters of the Hurricanes
will fill her empty chalice.
The storm (behind the clarinets,
the silver flutes, the castanets,
the foghorns belching in quartets,
the bagpipes, puffed and swollen)
is keeping time to tambourines
while Tom Thumb and the Four-Inch Queen,
pick up the shards and smithereens
of moments lost or stolen.
They’re trekking through the Dim Domains
(where fountains weep, the mountain wanes),
yet can’t escape the Hurricanes
with trundling eyes patrollin’.
The Crowds (arrayed in jewels) in jails,
stoop, peering through a fence of nails
while light behind their eyeballs pales
with plastic flame that sputters.
They huddle there because they must
(with eyelids hung like peeling rust,
their tears, palled pellets in the dust),
behind the bolted shutters.
They’ll reawake without their pains
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
without their sores, without their stains,
their agonies will fill the drains
and overflow the gutters.
End
Johnny Brat figures out quickly
How to get the best results
When tossing animals in the air
You grab the tail while spinning it
Just ask kitty. He knows well.
Finding the proper trajectory is crucial for missiles
Creating a vortex of momentum is important as well
An unpleasant experience is guaranteed upon release
The family cat is about to find out what is displeasing
Dragging old bones across the floor to the kitchen
The cranky old witch watches from the window
With one hump or two protruding from her back
Propped up on a crooked stick, gazing out at the cat
In a state of distress in mid flight as you might expect
The old crow is too old to fly a broom
But she makes wonderful meals of youths
Counting calories because of her weight
But don’t count her out just yet
Through a glass darkly she sees a brat in action
Watching out as her kitty cat gets tossed about
The old hag grows hungry for a solution
A cauldron is ready with wood and coal
Awaits for what comes next down in the soul
Old witches chew gum with no flavor and no teeth
With the same fervor as with a nasty child
One makes bubbles, the other, trouble
Will it be stew or soup this time
Looks like we are having brat again for supper
You lay me down beside a bubbling stream
As Spring enchants us in a lover's dream
You hold me as I watch the bubbles dance
The cadence of a song filled with romance
From face you tease away a raven tress
With longing eyes, my body you undress
Your lips touch mine in meeting graced with bliss
I'm lost to all around me, save your kiss
You water me with love, your flower fair
To see me bloom, my petals soft you bare
With gentle touch you go where none has gone
Then taste the honeyed dew your love has won
Like bubbles of the stream, I burst in glee
The blush of love in bloom you wake in me
Eileen Manassian
.
deeps
down
drowning
drunk
with all uv their
love
rough
soft touches
kisses
hugz
listen to mine
bluster
az the bubbles
pop
toxic
"beaming eyne
ponderous tresses
hot chocolate with
thick marshmallows
champagne
cherries
excited
trickling flesh
mine lips
theirn digits
Friday nights"