Long Buzzing Poems
Long Buzzing Poems. Below are the most popular long Buzzing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Buzzing poems by poem length and keyword.
Night falls in showers
of neon, and the blacktops spark electric.
The town takes to its cars
and pulls into fast food joints.
People just sits there
in the lots smoking and razing
or just crying quietly and alone.
Other's gather in backyards to drink;
In the lulls between the talk-talk
they tune-in to the distant scuffle
of criminal minds
getting chased around
by sweating cops in their buzzing blues.
When the summer night seeps into our skin
it sings a thousand sad songs,
a velvety shine heals
lonely hearts and the joyful.
The liquor stores glow bright
long into the sleepless night
because we need them
even when we don’t need them,
but we like the way they
carry folks in and out of their
fitful dreams
like cups of cool water.
What sets one above the pack;
the throng, the herd the mob?
And, do these honorable?
attributes nearer us to God?
Does walking upright like the shaft
bring clarity from aloft
indicating those of a slower pace
are merely God’s castoffs?
Do denizens of air and sea
fall farther from God’s grace
are the golden buzzing bees
a mere afterthought, a trace?
Shall ego serve our last cold dish
as harsh denigration falls
upon all the smaller things
man’s mindlessly enthralled.
Or, will we find on judgment day
sure scintillation and surprise
as we realize all God’s creations
are equal in His eyes.
`
Hovering like a gnat that finds a face irresistible
Swatting frantically does no good as
insects will be insects and annoying is part of their plan
As it seems each day you find a new offering unfolding its wings,
buzzing about with your dirty laundry in tow,
as if poetry has become merely a tool to harass
Finding little folders to slide into…highlighting
each word of bin fodder, old but new
hoping for accolades in lemonade fashion
Funny how that works as hatred becomes the norm,
never letting go of that scent that attracts you…
whatever it is about the human aroma you find so pleasing
Perhaps it is that it will never be you,
oh little gnat of negative words seeking only attention,
lost within the deep confines of a posers petals
To ruin our summer fair, our poetic picnic in the sun
cannot happen for you see we are happy
in our own skin, with its wondrous fragrance…unlike you
`
Don't you just hate little pests that just fly around annoying people?
At the coffee shop, a chap walked in,
Ordered a latte, wore a sly grin.
With a carrot, he stirred, no spoon in sight,
Perplexed, I stared, as my thoughts took flight.
The buzzing barista continued her work,
Same as the patrons, did not notice the quirk.
In loud sounds of chat, my mind left to wander,
A carrot in coffee? A concept to ponder!
No others had noticed by time he had gone,
And I said, "WTFWT, on this very dawn?"
The insanity of sighting a veggie conductor,
Beta carotene coffee? A caffeine constructor!
Alas, I sipped my drink, a secret to declare,
Not java but whiskey, the truth now laid bare.
A twist in my brew, a profound virtuoso,
Special ingredient that gives coffee its mojo.
The buzz in the shop matched the buzz in my cup,
Unraveled the mystery of the orange root foul-up.
At end, the coffee shop's great unsurprise,
Was due to my whiskey, not his carrot supplies!
It's my birthday today. My husband is away and my daughter is away. I was in church when I did something naughty and checked my phone (I go to church on Saturdays....the Biblical Sabbath). There was this message from my 18 year old daughter, Shereen. She wrote a poem for me...I just started crying in church, and I'm sure everyone thought I'd lost it at 46. I'm so proud of my daughter. She has a poem published in a book already. She's my life and joy. I thought I'd share with you!
The Month of May
The clear blue skies, the dancing sun
The gentle breeze when day is done
The quiet blossoms, their sweet perfume
The way they make my spirit bloom
Little things that make me say,
“Oh how I love the month of May”
The burning heat, the birds in flight
The way the stars sparkle at night
The buzzing bees and calming seas
The sound of singing in the trees
These little things that make me say
“Oh how I love the month of May.”
The little things, so dear to me
Are not the ONLY things, you see
For on the eighteenth day of May
Is someone wonderful’s birthday
Her jet black hair, her skin so fair
The way she smiles makes people stare
She’s full of passion, fierce and bold
The heart she has? It’s made of gold
Her lullabies and big brown eyes
How we would laugh until we’d cry
Her crazy ways, the good old days
When we would blast out songs of praise
Her spirit be so wild and free
Wind through her hair fills her with glee
The way she sings, the joy she brings
She’s better than ALL my little May things
My MAMA Bear is why I say
“Oh how I love the month of May.”
Shereen Natalie Ghali
May 18, 2013
Yes, I'm a proud Mama Bear!
What Works
by Michael R. Burch
for David Gosselin
What works—
hewn stone;
the blush the iris shows the sun;
the lilac’s pale-remembered bloom.
The frenzied fly: mad-lively, gay,
as seconds tick his time away,
his sentence—one brief day in May,
a period. And then decay.
A frenzied rhyme’s mad tip-toed time,
a ballad’s languid as the sea,
seek, striving—immortality.
When gloss peels off, what works will shine.
When polish fades, what works will gleam.
When intellectual prattle pales,
the dying buzzing in the hive
of tedious incessant bees,
what works will soar and wheel and dive
and milk all honey, leap and thrive,
and teach the pallid poem to seethe.
Keywords/Tags: poets, poems, poetry, writing, romantic, art, work, works, rhyme, ballad, immortality, passion, emotion, desire, write, words
See them crawling out of the mound walking in a straight line, one set is going to East, the other to the West, carrying little particles of food in their mouth and moving with rapid speed.
They stop and greet each other on the way and I am always curious about what they have to say; the message is brief and they continue their laborious journey up and down the street.
I stood by the tree root and observe the ants at work; they were carrying a dead lizard under the tree, hundreds of them hoist it in the air and drag it into the hole;
It is amazing to see those little things latching on to the tail of a giant lizard without a inch of fear, they hurry back and forth and seal their fate in the dirt.
The ant has a message for you of how to walk on a thin line when the place is crowded and your home is invaded. You can slide up and down the tree and walk around the wood peckers feet; he will make a howling sound that will disturbed the entire town and set the people in motion.
The ladybug knows about it and the grasshopper cannot control it, the buzzing bee understands it and the American eagle is in love with it. The cardinal in the tree is waiting but the frog and the sparrow are petrified about it.
I got caught up in the animal world and I kept looking for something outside you that will make my dream come through, something that will make me think, and make the magpie sing; they are all around you, jumping from tree to tree and swinging from limb to limb.
The parrot is a talkative fellow and it will make you bellow. It sits quietly in the cage watching your every move, and he knows how often you go to the toilet and how often you change your shoes.
It sneaks upon you in the dark with a filtering light overhead, the one that they use to bury the dead and when the nights are cold the talkative parrot makes my spirit bold.
Sometimes it gets awfully quite and dozes off and that is the only time you can slip away, when the parrot is at play.
.
Magic Meadow – 7-26-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Magic Meadow
Fantasy’s alchemy rises
In words
Like black velvet from loam rich earth
A bouquet -
Birthed
In ballads and barcarolles –
Grows
From stolen spells and visions
The Snowthorn
And
Golden Elanor
When myth weaves magic
Into fragrant crowns of phrases
Each petal, perfumed with inspiration,
Whispers
A rainbow drenched celestial serenade
In a
Mosaic made of legends forged by ivory stars
Leaving
Pure fire to play among purple
Then grow from aromatic seeds
Into
Chimeras of fiery amber
And
Bewitched onyx
Scattered from the figments of its footsteps
Into bonfires
Of buzzing artistry
That drip enchanted dews of golden milk
When minutes fade into metaphors
For herbs of morning’s meadow
Growing
From incantations of the moon.
The fragrance of magic rises,
From the fertile alabaster woodland
To bewitch
Newborn
Spellbound verses
With crystal balms
As the meadow dwindles
Into shadows
In waiting
For a nascent harvest
To wander again among fantastical
Star struck Magic.
I am adamant hi cringe at the thought of dirty feet
I am biased and subconscious of crimson vegetable beets
No longer nowhere do you find coconut treats
Chocolate covered crimson beige grasshopper leaves
While ants are scrimmaging laterally liking playing football
And bees are buzzing around making a buzzzzz sound
Fluttering butterflies fluttering flattering floating
around above the ground the lower the sky has
Yet the parlay fleet of grasshoppers marching crickets rubbing their legs
Sounding off while they here are they there seemingly they're everywhere
Skreet Skreet Skreet the screeching sounds that come from their feet
Chirping chirping chirping where are they and do they ever sleep
I too have feet and I'm a floor runner
Twix and tween my corns and bunions
I'm coming running on my feet for you
9/14/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Night comes upon me, as daylight slips away
I try to distance myself, from things I heard today
Heartbreaking stories that linger stagnant in my mind
Do take some effort to re-gain the moment, and not fall behind
Time still moves forward, day after day
Even with all the changes, life has a way
Of giving the same choice of opportunity to take
And pursue what it is you may want to make
In fact, now is most important with limits unknown
Now, every sunny day is brighter in dark aura that is shown
I look forward to spring, with new flowers to see
I look forward to the new scents that will reach me
I look forward to soft breeze that comes with perfect air
And the hummingbirds returning, buzzing everywhere
Just around the corner, new things will burst into sight
Emerging to enjoy every day to every night
Heidi Sands
4/1/20