Long Burbles Poems
Long Burbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Burbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Burbles poems by poem length and keyword.
Like the seagulls in the sky
Give me wings to fly
Over the deep blue seas
Smelling the unpolluted salty air
And emit shrill loud jubilant cries.
Like the seas frenzied dancing
Back and forth as it were doing the cha-cha-cha
Let me move my feet to the rhythm of the waves
Lashing onto the shore once more.
Get lost in a dense forest dressed in green
With streaks of gold highlights peeping through
the trees.
Discovering a graceful waterfall sparkling with a rippling flow.
A stream burbles travelling over rocks and branches, cascading to the floor.
Or climb the highest mountains that wear hoodies
made of white crinkled crepe.
Tall and unmoving like one’s faith
Lifting my mind to greater heights
Unfathomable, and reach the summit of
all that I can perceive.
26.11.2020
Divin' Deep down there's guttural
gurgles and burbles
Jivin' in the respirator.
I dive deeper, still deeper
than I've ever been before.
The seabed is littered
with littoral lie-there's
just layin' about,
praying to be picked up
by some swim-on-buy kid like me.
It's a jalopy junk yard down there.
Old shells long discarded by hermit crabs
looking for joyrides in new digs
and sporty convertible squats in RV's.
Shells discarded are great do-uppers
for crabs putting on weight.
No one is homeless down here,
for all shells discarded,
are reborn to after-lives
decreed indeed by need
in Davy Jones' Locker.
Spills out of bed
that shared intimacy
seems slinky naked
lavishly strokes rocks on her route
Magnifying her outstretched whimsical body
Jiggled eyes refuses to shun
Hedges blush with sprinkled
pearls of raptured tears
Her burbles tickles hormones
of weeping willows too.
Climaxing coast craves.
5-6-2020
~DEEPA~
6th place in the Contest.
Note1:Some kind of Sensual poetry Contest
Theme:River
Title: Shimmering River
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
45 words used~(checked with Words counter.com)
Third place in the Contest.
Note2:BRIAN'S SELECT 9,any form,any theme
Sponsored by Brian Strand.
Where shall I go to embrace your heat?
...where the waves upon the sand beat,
and the palms in answer sway …
O Sun, to Karina, sweep me away ~
Where shall I go to behold your light?
…where torrid rains mist to a rainbow flight,
and hibiscus gold, on the beach stray…
O Sun, to Karina, sweep me away ~
Where shall I go to taste your kiss?
…where the brook burbles with bubbly bliss,
and the rocks in aqua, splay…
O Sun, to Karina, sweep me away ~
Where shall I go for your quiet, laced?
…where the doves coo but hide their face,
and ancient greens, swish through the gray…
O Sun, to Karina, sweep me away ~
Where shall I go to inhale your scent?
…where gingers spice till their reds are spent
and 'Tiare' snow falls from cliffs in May…
O Sun, to Karina, sweep me away ~
Where shall I go for your heavenly grace?
…where beams bathe life in a special place
and spirits glide as the dolphins play…
O Sun, in Karina, I pray to stay ~
(12/5/19: '89 Bluewater Coastal Cruiser 55; Alamar and DMS)
Ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and
freighted with the memories and the dreams of time.
—H.P. Lovecraft, The Best of H.P. Lovecraft:
Bloodcurdling Tales of Horror and the Macabre
His Overboard Tale
My captain bellows, “heave-ho.”
Off the plank I go, overboard.
I plunged into the night, entangled in
aberrant irises of the deep.
When my abject insanity rewinds,
I wish that I had swallowed the sea.
The kiss of salt and seaweed,
the wretch filled my lungs.
The Shes were more fish than maid
with huge hips and floundering tails.
The strange language of burbles,
their breasts made me gag…
Seahag hair, menacingly like Medusa’s.
I surmised sirens locks would actually bite.
My dreams capsized.
Why am I alive?
I’d rather that the chest be covered.
I shall never recover.
That’s why this landlubber
drinks and drinks, burbles.
At the end I was found on a rock.
I hit the rocks hard.
Swallow the water, lad.
Leave no room for desire.
Mermaids are a misnomer;
breaststroking in Bruichladdich proof.
Have a swim lad in this label
and stay far away from shore.
When I recall the tenebrous, gruesome shadows
Shrouding our lives conjuring deaths and sorrows,
In my vantage-point, I envision a massive bridge
Standing there resolutely over turbulent waters
Beckoning me avidly to cross over to tomorrow
Promising the other side is now within my reach
And travails of the yore will soon be behind me.
Yet, I feel fear gripped in jaws of deadly throes
And sense saddened tears fretting abyss of woes
So I summon courage, spurring resolve to cope,
Drawing assurances in embrace of my beloved
Entrusting-- in despair too-- grow seeds of hope
Believing in the promise of scientists, medicines,
And heroes who sacrifice in service of humanity.
Beyond that bridge are the pristine green prairies
Cheerfully inviting me to joy of winsome spring
Where glee of vibrant season burbles in streams
Washing away remnants of yesteryears’ misery
Frozen in gelid winters when lives were stilled,
As I continue trekking to dreams of my dawning
Aiming to arrive there clasping strength of family.
April 8, 2022
No words completely rhyme with orange:
no orange fringe, no orange hinge,
no lozenge, no syringe, no twinge, no whinge – no nothing!
No words completely rhyme with orange.
Porridge isn’t orange; but, there is an Orange Province.
An orange stoppage - should be red!
Incorrigible orange!
The rhymes I’ve tried are negligible, barely sensible.
Horrid orange!
Purple is no better.
There are purple turtles, slurping, burping,
and purple pebbles, purple burbles:
all sorts of purply, chirpy, twerpy sounds,
but, no words rhyme with purple.
Silver is another colour which hasn’t got a twinning brother.
There are silver rivers, silver shivers, silver slivers, silver sisters;
but, there are no silver dilver milver pilvers,
and if there were, they’d smell like fish.
I actually prefer the almost-chimes of assonance,
the vowels that that twine with consonants,
without the over-confidence of lar-dee-dar-dee rhymes.
Your sigh indicates as though you are tired, sad, and worn out,
Yet, how lovely is your song, dear breeze, how melodious!
Flowing, with scent, from a source unknown to an unknown route,
You make paradise this world vast wide and commodious...!
An amalgamation of Piano, guitar, and flute,
Your silent song, like the gushing of waterfall burbles,
In-depth music of saxophone, violin, harp, and lute,
Blends and mingles and dribbles with medicinal herbals...!
Bathing in ponds and rivers and lakes and oceans and seas,
How immaculate is your breath that gives us existence;
Kissing, on your way, the little animals, birds, and bees,
How divinely you have blessed each one with persistence...!
How caressing is your gentle, tender, and soft air stream!
To flow with you and merge with the universe is my dream...!!!
Deep in the forest
Where silence blends
The whisper of leaves, dancing
With the wind’s gentle breath…
There among the laurels, the pines
Mossy logs and boulders
Where the creek splashes and burbles
Gushing with enthusiasm…
Where the melody of wrens
Shakes hands with robin and swallow,
Promising the hearer who listens
Quiet, absorbed in the woods
Admiring butterflies who soar by…
Where there is only the joy, the peace
The hope and the sense of belief
Inspiring the moment, the heart’s beating
Echoing the joy that comes to praise
With a song that abides in the sunlight’s gaze
Where stardust caresses an iridescent moon
Glowing with favor, graceful and pure
Welcoming the prayerful sincerity
Enduring the darkness with its doubtful hue
Reflecting the love that rains through the clouds…
In this quiet place, where I always find…
Blessings beyond what my heart can define
Beauty more powerful than I could possibly design
Bountiful wisdom that comes from the sounds
Breaking through the silence with peace so loud...
It sounds almost like God’s voice booming down,
The wonder of this place…
It is so alive, just like our faith!
A Quiet Place Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
July 16,2022
My mind is a dreamy river,
that flows untiring - smooth and rapid,
murmuring the words it adores,
the burbles of its ponderings.
These burbles of my musings
are simple little things I admire,
that capture my imagination
and get bottled up in my mind,
waiting impatiently to escape and sprinkle
in fragments of letters and scribblings.
When creative instinct is aroused,
the poet's eloquent pen dances to the
tunes of his chords of inspiration,
soothing and healing a wounded soul.
Words that splash from a poetic mind,
brightens the inner vision of the blind.
They relate to the listener's heart,
Calming his wavering mind.
A poet's gifted verses
dig out those untold secrets,
from the innermost cores of unknown minds
that connect to those lines of rhythm.
This dreamy river will gently swirl and flow,
to become wider - carrying loads of insights.
Ceaseless will it continue its course
until it reaches the end of its journey.
May weaken then, but would not stop,
creating valuable thoughts of wisdom,
in the fertile deltas it creates,
before it becomes one with the ocean.
Date: 02/06/2023
2022 Poetry Marathon Qualifiers' FINAL Placement Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Date: 11/27/2020
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Date: 11/27/2020
Where Do We Poets Go Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One