Long Buffers Poems
Long Buffers Poems. Below are the most popular long Buffers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buffers poems by poem length and keyword.
Free verse to Rhyme Royal
Daytime’s Demeanor
This morning the water is,
glass still, an indigo mirror.
Shyly it reflects each hill, each lofty palm,
a soft collage of orange clouds.
Time now, to summon thoughts, delineate them,
confess faults, spill forth, a profusion
of memories, immersed in reverie.
Slowly, as clouds disperse, the day begins to pulse.
As ripples, eventually distort the river
I stir, myself.
Time now, for me to assume, day-time’s demeanor.
Like any cloud or tree, be buffered
by whatever comes along.
Suzanne Delaney
Daytime’s Demeanor
This morning the river is glassy-still.
Its surface a collage of orange clouds,
of lofty palms, and every nearby hill.
And I, immersed in reverie away from crowds
Summon thoughts, confessing faults, to spill
a profusion of reflected memories
Mirrored to de-lineate in reverie.
As day begins to pulse and clouds disperse
Ripples from unruly winds distort the river
I stir myself, day’s journey to traverse
Preparing for what day's events are likely to deliver
Like any cloud or tree that Nature buffers
No longer to remain a simple dreamer
Time now to wrap myself in Daytime’s Demeanor.
Suzanne Delaney
Country pop song inspired by the complex character of Juliette in Nashville. Brilliant performances, Hayden Panettiere. Blessings and best wishes.
Entourage
(Piece of you)
By Michelle Morris
23/01/2023
You think they love you, don't you?
But you're deluded about it all
They're only your entourage
Not friends that are real and loyal
I know damaged people are dangerous
But can't you see you're killing yourself?
When will you realise, honey
That I'm only trying to help?
You don't have to give up yourself
You don't have to sacrifice your soul
Real friends are loving and supportive
Real friends help you find your way home
So, come on, girl, come on...
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone is on the take
Some of us want you for yourself
Want to see you smile again
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone will tear up your heart
Some of us want the best for you
We'll be your friends forevermore
Here you go again, honey
Going right for the jugular
You're so used to fighting
You can't even work out what's real
You surround yourself with fake fans
You keep your entourage in tow
You think if there are enough buffers
You'll never have to feel anything real
You don't have to give up yourself
You don't have to sacrifice your soul
Real friends are loving and supportive
Real friends help you find your way home
So, come on, girl, come on...
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone is on the take
Some of us want you for yourself
Want to see you smile again
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone will tear up your heart
Some of us want the best for you
We'll be your friends forevermore
Oh, no, no, no... Oh-oh-oh...
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone is on the take
Some of us want you for yourself
Want to see you smile again
Not everyone wants a piece of you
Not everyone will tear up your heart
Some of us want the best for you
We'll be your friends forevermore
So, come on, girl, come on...
© Michelle Morris, 2023
The day I looked and saw sea in its entirety
I cringed at its depth and prayed for mercy
I saw the good, the bad, and the ugly, and
Felt compelled to learn from helpful hands
For one hand washes the other hand
Just as the ground that buffers as I stand
I saw remorse in its entirety
For I knew of lives dying to save you and me
I looked and saw everybody
Some undoing the do, some shunning the Almighty.
Beyond eyes, nose, and skin, we are one
Our innermost parts the same held strong
And beauty becomes a thing the blind could see
And forgiveness was born for you and me
I looked and saw compassion in action
For now we stand above ground, and then we're done!
*
I love a good cocktail party. Unlike a bar, you can talk.
After three drinks I believe in transformation.
I reconstruct myself from conversation to conversation,
editing my own footnotes like a controlled burn.
While some people arrive whole and fully formatted,
my personality just buffers, spins and refreshes.
Though I suspect everyone’s upgrading themselves in real time.
When someone asks me, “What do you do?”
I say, “I read a lot,” with no qualifiers or visible panic.
I think saying “I’m in school” makes me sound.. adolescent.
After three drinks, I like everyone
and I want to make them happy
- conversationally.
I believe that, at a cocktail party,
people should morally align with ambiguity.
No one should come in with ‘strong opinions,’
because if we can avoid fistfights -
these events feel like a success.
The worst question I can get, at any event starts with,
“Aren’t you—” because then I know they want to talk about my grandmère.
Peter, sensing wild and stormy weather, will pull me away with,
“Let me borrow you for a second.”
Sometimes, on the way home, I’ll practice my go-to cocktail sentence.
“I read a lot,” I say, repeating it like an actor trying to give it more personality
- so maybe someday it’ll be enough.
.
.
Songs for this:
Hawt Heart by Born At Midnite
Islands of Men by Geese
.
* guess where we went Friday night.
I wore these shoes before
And as I walk across floor
The rushing winds shakes the door
As winter colds blows it's snow
Tornadic realms comes and buffers
Throwing star like frozen ice toppings
Covering the entire population
Now the time to come shut the doors and windows
I walk in the mist of the snow storm
No one knows my whereabouts
I am lost they too are blinded by the storm
Tornadic realms comes and buffers
Entrapped by the bitterness we suffer
And as I walk across floor
I wore these shoes before
Walking, stumbling, sliding trekking through the snow
03/6/18
©2018
For Contest: MARCH 18 PREMIERE CONTEST,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UP TO A MAX OF 20 lines
SPONSORED BY: Brian Strand
Lately I've been on flats, between heaven and hell
Who but the Almighty buffers me from lack
My stance is firm, I move with care
Not to tear or deplete what's left of me
As parents persevere, praying renewal of psyche
Grown children are puncturing precious time
You'd wonder why wise women still ride so high
On horses that will topple them in wilderness
What simmer souls from stilts that do silent
Damage to free will's humbler spirit?
I have learned it takes time for the clearing of
Cobwebs clouding fair point of views
Who will wed serenity and naked troth of this:
Time and space and grace heals and inspires simplicity with humility.
*
The times of forewarnings whereby recipients within close proximity of retiring may have to keep on working as a possible solution and thereby embolden the faltering and weakening future, and the eventual collaspe of the Social Security System that fundings will be depleted and thereby deny Americans their blankets of secured perpetuity.
Based upon the timings of the DC's outcry and imminent danger of the Social Security's abilities to stay above water and to maintain a stalwart opportunity without deviating needed resources to accommodate the lacking. The numbers of retirees have stabilized, meaning that less people were retiring.
The effects that the government had enforced on Social Security, changing its parameters and basic concepts and ideology of exacting quantum knowledge -- later is better.
Eureka, it worked. Social Security may not be fully secured, but numbers have proven the buffers are laxed enough to accommodate the retirees who are presently those who waited and this happens to be their retirement that they had put off till later, becomes their now for they could have been first in queue seeing the changes, and becoming the better you, the adherant crowd who off retirement for later. This product of revamping the system of "do or die", frightening outlook. Message loud and clear, that initial phrase was to get the truth matter methodlogy was the phrase, "Later is Better."
The massive campaigns put forward concerning America's Social Security System ensuring all Americans, particularly the wrokers of America, and a special message to those close to retirement: Your check will be in the mail or deposited in your Financial Institution, Well-earned, RETIREE.
I need another doe-eyed Doña Lola,
a tungsten-hearted torturer of men.
I crave a further fling at love’s tombola,
to beard the lioness inside her den.
Of course, it always runs into the buffers:
their sex is unremitting, unforgiving:
but he is truly fortunate who suffers:
to be in love again – that’s really living!
She must have bags of charm, and must deploy it.
I want to give my heart, have her destroy it,
or better still, to gouge it from my chest,
for when my love is spurned, I’m at my best.
I get to pout and pose, and blue-eyed-boy it:
and if the truth be told, I quite enjoy it!
Imagine being Katie or Naomi or Simone.
The world has expectations and it won’t leave you alone.
Your performances’ perfection has been touted and extolled,
So anything will be a loss if it won’t get the gold.
Well, pressure takes its toll and therefore, even with the buffers
Of team and coach support, sometimes a well-rehearsed act suffers.
Katie* gets the silver as the Aussie’s time is faster;
Naomi** loses to a Czech, a Japanese disaster.
And Simone***, the gymnast everyone believes to be the best
Leaves the competition early, feeling out of sorts and stressed.
It seems the build-up is too much and many athletes just
Cannot function when their hopes and dreams may suddenly combust.
*Katie Ledecky **Naomi Osaka ***Simone Biles
Inside the puffy white cloudy up above high
Inside the purple gathering skies soars flies
Flowing falling droplets of I'll waters wallows
Raining down showers as cumulus gathering
Tainted mix gray and white shadows buffers
Like marshmallows dark skies cover my eyes
~
Drop, drop, falling drops falls splashing dots
Thousands of drips of waters hits the tops of
My head face my lips and eyes cries saturated
So by the storm guttering winds how can I be
Now dry but the essence moisture condensation
Covering me wholly blue over in shadows dews
10/13/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021