Long Buzzers Poems
Long Buzzers Poems. Below are the most popular long Buzzers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buzzers poems by poem length and keyword.
I refuse to think of these days as melancholy.
The “s” has been missing on my keyboard for about a year now,
and in that year I have felt great pleasure, surmounted
great obstacles, and have wrangled
and tormented over false outcomes;
the delusory greener grass.
Yet these are the days I am to discover all of this.
I am to walk out of the cage and stand back, turning around to gaze
at the various compartments of my Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box:
The hinges, pulleys, ropes, splices,
bevels, strapping, horns, buzzers, clocks, and radios
that have encumbered and ran its chaotic push towards
A function built and conceived by man.
I am outside of it now
And I dare threaten to call these days
melancholy just because I miss all my meaningless gauges.
At yet I still stand at the doorstep,
in the silent light where Luminosity begins,
the saddest place of all. It's here
that I find attainment in one direction and attachment in the other.
My Blue Ribbon Wrangle Box haloes
from the white glow of a hidden crescent moon.
Budgie's Quote:
There is a balance between the Divinity of nature,
and the Divinity of spirituality.
Soul of mine you have taken a shine to the beauty
that resides in every tree and every lake.
You have left behind the noises of this world
and embraced the sound of a cooing dove,
the hooting of the owl in the prime of night
the blare of a cardinal by early morning dawn.
Soul of mine, you have illuminated my path in life
with the breath of heaven and yet you have not
spoken, one single word*
Soul of mine for the sake of you, I have renounced
all buzzers crackles and chatters, for the love of you
dear soul, I have embraced the mystical experience
of just being me, and within that moment of being,
I have given you me and you have given me you.
Demonic voices
Drenched in acid rain
Despicable noises
Depressing pain
Hand me the gun
Free your soul
Break the mold
The sun was shunned
Thorns twisting around
Crushing your bones
Corrupting your senses
A guise for dementia
Follow the buzzers
To a land barren and empty
Once so lush and vibrant
A broken nightstand memory
Masquerade misery as freedom
A land with dreams
Is now a dilapidated wasteland
Of antiquated ideas
Fracture bridges
To finalized the divide
War is coming
Disguised as righteous deliverance
A war to end all wars
An end to life as we know it
Pitiable but true
Embrace the apocalypse
Demonic voices
Drenched in acid rain
The ragged haggard man
Writes his final ballad
Waiting around, heart’s failing, to death I’m resigned
Lying in a bed, someone wake me, going out of my mind
I sense sharks swimming below, angels are flying on a high
Staring into my taped shut eyelids, tis hard work wanting to die
Machines keep me breathing, pumping air throughout each lung
Different tubes stave off urges, sponge moistening my tongue
Buzzers bleep, my family whispers ‘we love you’ I can hear
Overcome in sheer emotion, trickling out one final tear
A soft breeze caresses my face, then appears hazy light
Warmth wrapping itself around me, boy this feels just right
Whatever you are, I give myself freely, I’m in utero once again
My umbilical tube forms a tunnel, eternally looping without an end
Crossing through the multiverse, trillions of portals swirling around
They can feel my presence, it’s so beautiful, only love abounds
Each portal either an ancestor, or a descendant yet to come
A welcoming of open doors, I will enter them all at once
Consciousness pervades everything, I’m part of the sum
Death cannot stop an equation, to continue on and become
There never was a beginning, just another cycle, here’s a clue
Birth’s a conduit to infinite hosts, perpetuating through me and you
By
David Kavanagh
there were buzzers and bells, rattles and bangs
a long rubber snake with horrible fangs
a mural in crayon the length of the hall
of misshapen cows -giraffes not too tall
out in the kitchen the dog cleaned the floor
then he circled again looking for more
for eggs had been dropped and milk had been spilled
making breakfast for mom had the kids thrilled
dad in his apron, the kids in PJ'S
stirred, mixed and cooked amid shouts and hoorays
then quietly opened mom's bedroom door
awakening her from a loving faux snore
a morning repast most people would dread
dad and the kids serving breakfast in bed
John G. Lawless
1/10/2021
Remove your watch; take off your belt
And place them in this bin.
Your pockets must be empty
Or we will not let you in.
Then walk through slowly, just in case
There’s metal to detect.
If buzzers sound, security
Will have to then inspect.
The line is long, the day is cold
And so we have to wait,
Though no one there is thrilled one bit
About this courthouse date.
We inch along, then make it through
So coffee’s what I need.
Alas, there’s none inside
And I am frustrated, indeed.
‘Cause there’s no way in hell that I’ll
Repeat that check-in scene.
I’ll have to get through jury duty
Minus my caffeine.
On a bright sunlit morning, washed brilliant with clover,
the day was alive with complacency, as color.
The day had no reason to quiver off course.
A cat in a tree, was stalking a bird,
and people were rising, to go off to work.
No one was thinking of nuclear things.
Below, in the trenches, a watchman has wandered,
checking a gage, and turning a page, of an old manual cover.
He scratches his head, and ponders a problem,
wondering how numbers could be out of order?
His heart rate goes up, his blood pressure rises.
He is wise to a problem and soon he's alarmed
He sets off the buzzers, but knows much too late,
the tremor he felt, was not only his own.
But instead, is the syndrome, we've always ignored,
Something horrendous.........Oh, God, what will come,
of the innocent families who live in the zone?
People arising, beginning their day
who scurry their children, in a rush off to school.
and husbands who carry a lunch in their pail,
punching a time clock, to work at the mill.
Just an ordinary day, in the lives of the men,
women, and children who live 'neath the hill.
"The Hill", that will bring them the end of the world.
Living their lives, on a tightrope so thin,
daylight begins, but how will it end?
A tremble so mild, invisible wave,
has seeped from the waste, with a radiant hand,
to swollow landscape, and burn with the sun.
As heart rates get higher, blood pressure rises,
the tremor we feel, is that of our own.
Oh, God, what becomes
of the innocent targets who dwell in the zone,
men, woman, children......who live 'neath the hill?
"The Hill" that will bring them the end of their world.
___________________________________________
The China Syndrome For Contest: "Equations"
Come on you lot wakey wake
A start of another crazy day
Give the comatosed children a chant
Dash to the bathroom now it's vacant
No time for a rest or sleep
Just on the go cup of tea
Uniforms pressed and shoes scrubbed
Presented to my two grouchy cherubs
Breakfast time can be unreal
He wants toast, she wants cereal
Fruit and veg for their box
Time for school, ready you lot?
Walk my lovelies for exercise
Get back just after nine
Too tired to eat straight to bed
Out like a light blowing my zzz
Soon be time to get up
To go fetch my little cherubs
Prepare our meal before I leave
Help with homework before we eat
Prepare my box full of snacks
Shower then my uniform is back
Babysitter's running a little late
A mad rush out the gate
Step onto my favourite ward
No time to stop and talk
Cries for nurse and buzzers
Keep me even more busier
Change beds, mop it all up
Help feed and change Mr Jessup
Medicine dispensing with caution
Cannot give the wrong portion
Have five minutes eat a pair
On the go no time to spare
Mr Drinkwater's health has declined
Call in the family, it's time
Comfort the loved one's in grief
One last round before I leave
Walking home pick up some bread
Making plans for the next day ahead
Garden Party
Honey bees
petal to petal
roving salesmen
pressing buzzers
leaving calling cards
blowing in the wind.
Butterflies,
in flowing gowns
adorn red carpet
of jealous rose.
Fireflies, nocturnal
lantern carriers
of the pixies,
announce the stars.
Dew drops, wet kisses
upon pursed lips,
awaken passion
under cover
of darkness.
Ants parade,
long Conga Lines
passing on a
two lane road.
Snails park their campers
in a shady
patch of leaves.
Motionless,
the praying Mantis
silently waits.
7/21/2016
Submitted to – Anacreontic Verse 4 – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Edward Ebbs