Long California Poems
Long California Poems. Below are the most popular long California by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long California poems by poem length and keyword.
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
Our dear leader
Our favorite President
President Trump
Once again
Interjected himself
Into areas that he knows nothing about
Making a fool of himself
In the process
Why does he do this?
Time after time
Talking nonsense
It is because
He is the smartest man
In the universe
Knows more than anyone else
And so he feels
He has to comment
On everything
Under the sun
And then some more
Even when he
Does not know
What he is talking about
So painful to watch such a fool
Mark Twain had sage advice
If you want people to think
You are a fool
Open your mouth
and remove all doubt
In the midst
Of the devastating Paris Norte Dame Fire
He tweeted
“So horrible to watch the massive fire
at Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris,”
“Perhaps flying water tankers
could be used to put it out.
Must act quickly!”
Later, Mr. Obvious noted,
They’re having a terrible,
terrible fire,”
Mr Trump later told reporters.
“It looks like it’s burning to the ground.”
The French were not amused
By the unwanted advice
By the fire fighter in chief
France’s civil defense agency,
Sécurité Civile, tweeted —
once in French
and once in English
— less than two hours after Mr Trump
sent his tweet
and appeared
to directly respond to the US president.
“Helicopter or aeroplane,
the weight of the water
and the intensity of the drop
at low altitude
could indeed weaken
the structure of Notre Dame
and result in collateral damage
to the buildings in the vicinity,”
the agency wrote in French.
And despite never posting updates in English,
the agency then sent out a second tweet.
Hundreds of firemen of the Paris Fire Brigade are doing everything they can to bring the terrible #NotreDame fire under control. All means are being used, except for water-bombing aircrafts which, if used, could lead to the collapse of the entire structure of the cathedral.
— Sécurité Civile Fr (@SecCivileFrance) April 15, 2019
And the French provided
This helpful advice
To the Fire Fighter in chief
When California burned
you did not seem to be a fire expert.
Please, shut up.
It is a tragic moment
for the cultural heritage of humanity.
april 17 poem for April Month of Poetry Challenge see Writers Digest, All Poetry and my blog, https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com for the rest
Your thoughtless talking
Got me running and walking
Our reflection of cyber-sensation is not genuine
You're playing with my feelings and head now...that's mean...
Where have you been?
I have lost you...once again...
How can I forgive you, boo,
When we can't see face to face?
Searching all over for you too
Am I just this overwhelming disgrace?
Oh, What now?
Ah, now what?
You have taken me on levels of frustration...I weep sleep in awake agitation
Watching the process of abuse over the years
Shallow swimmer, shadows out if the closet of velvet hesitation
You and I together drives me in bittersweet tears
In instant return,
I get your rejection reflection
I internally burn
Not involved in your life of successful intervention....
Oh no, not anymore...
Hurt alone to the core...
I shed my blood of hate for our love on my own
And, in your eyes, I'm a pitiful fool and the aftershocks of your actions had made it known and let it be shown...I don't care, I'd rather bleed in the inside alone...
Alone, I will probably be...
Not alone, you're so free...
Your senseless subjection
Of my submissive affection
It astonishes me...
Mmmmm
Wholeheartedly
Mmmmm
It vanishes vainly...
Ahhhhhh
Unfortunately...
Ahhhhhh
Yet, fortunately...
Ah, oh so wistfully
It is incredibly of envy...
I have lived to witness momentarily...
Fair or not, I love who I want to...sorry, but not sorry
Suffocated by the overwhelming elevation you sent me from miles away
You're dominant to my passion-whelmed mind's eye I can't deny or even mutter a lie
Underrated and hated by the society that wants beauty without flaws, but I'm not that sun-shining day in California some even think or say
You're recessive to my heart's main focus and its target is what's truly in your heart of sticks and stones...is it of vibrant skies or of underground goodbye's, wrapped on in ribbons of why-do-I-even-try?
I'm not here to impress,
I'm here to, well, express
What's in my young heart
I know it's not a perfect masterpiece from the start
But I tried my best
To pass life's test
Here I am today, trying to tell the rest
That a cute poet, like a headstrong athlete, needs a good night's rest
Our love is like east to west...
Sorry, friend, but I won't detest
You and all you do for me
I am a land of captivity and you the sea of Liberty
Do you think I care
For your phony Arab spring
And dead trees and hot wind
I have never seen a spring without seed popping from the soil
I should know I am made from the dust of the earth
Spring must have rain and bring flowers
Like the peace people use to sell in California
Before I knew they were only exploited slaves
Following someone else's agenda
Muttering words that were meaningless to their existence
You see what I cannot believe in what I see again
I am a man of faith, and have always been
Since the blindfold fell like scales of history
There is no Arab spring
Only the death of the old undying resistance
That would not conform to nothing but self
Only the death of people in the street
Who does not know the puppiteer willed them
For if they return from the dead
What will they see
Only the same old things more dilapidated than before
Only the invisible hand doing visible things
Killing people and calling it spring
That the new world order may prevail
As a new nomenclature
For the same old stuff that has made us barren
And berefted us of dreams
I want my children to better off than I have been
I can only entrust to me
Sleeping at their door armed with a prayer and an angel
That is who we were
Before the primitive hordes came from the sea
Before the sea people defied the bounds of their habitation
Before our empires were stolen
And we ended up in cages at the Bronx zoo
Yeah, you should read that story too
It is only by prayers we suruvive
It is the mystic part of us, the first part they derided
Calling it animism, or some dark sinister stuff
Making us afraid to own ourselves
We abandoned everything and found no berth
In their new economic order
For we were always commodities or some sort of value in exchange
So those high sounding, idealistic documents
They copied from what we believe but could not bring to pass
Those constitutions were not about us nor our possibility
For we were not construed to have humanity enough for that.
Then are we suddenly men again
That the Arab spring should be something more than a sinister thing.
I stop believing in Trojan horses long ago
I mean it is there as a gift
But I will keep working the night shift
When there is no moon
Just remember what is the color of my skin
Because all things work together for good
And I cannot walk by sight in the darkness
So I live by faith in season and out of season.
Regardless of which field of endeavor you happen to be in, never say never, and never say, "It's over'' until it's over. I was in my garage during chores better known as this, that, and the other, but I don't remember what.
Two outs, bottom of the 9th, and the home team was down one run. Being announced by one of the greatest announcers in Major League Baseball, it was the first game of the 1988 World Series between two California rivals, one representing Northern and the other Southern California.
That 9th inning, especially the last at-bat, was being played as if it was a game to end all games and certainly among the greatest that I ever witnessed, but I don't remember why I was listening to the game over
the radio and not watching it on TV.
Anyway, the visiting team, most-favored to win the series, was ahead 4 to 3 with the best closer in ML Baseball. However, He was matched against one of the game's greatest clutch-hitters. Moreover, the home team had a great base stealer on first base which was critical to the game because the great clutcher, not in the lineup and not expecting to play, could barely walk, much less run, which meant that he had to hit a long ball for a single or hit a home run.
With the clutcher at-bat, the base runner stole second base which was a great boost, and it also meant that a long single would tie the game and take it into extra innings, or a home run would win the game for the home team which is what happened. 8 pitches were thrown at this at-bat: two strikes, three balls, three fowl balls; 2-run homer, and the home team won 5 to 4. I tell you, it was one amazing one-third inning.
040620PoSpCtest, Strand Pick 6, Brain Strand
I am who I am
Were you to ask where I’m from my past my tale my next of kin
the answer lies in who tells my narrative my twist what kind of spin
My autobiography is quickly shown in who I am will be in time
past present future blend in context and contingency overt and sublime
No doubt the product of genes and socialisation is rather pertinent
thus mixing and mingling draws frameworks but is also quite reticent
German ancestry Lower Saxon and East Prussian born after the War
struggling with Genocide Holocaust trans-generational down to my core
Grew up in Hamburg somewhat lonely understood by not many but few
too young in my school year a class clown a rebel a critic because I knew
Teachers could not reject or downgrade me since I got full marks in exams
so I carved out my niche opposed authority of Messieurs and Mesdames
A late child of the Student Revolution an exchange to California ensued
where hot love struck me like balm on my wounds with Gigi from Peru
After graduation I rejected being supported by my father and joined the Army
to gain independence yet the method to gain freedom now seems very barmy
Could not leave the Forces despite pretty vigorous conscientious objection
did my best to help others as a medical doctor in humanistic inception
My duties brought me to Wales by the Irish Sea with five children and marriage
country medic and farm house guiding my kids and then nuptial miscarriage
Depression struck no light at the end of the tunnel just darkness and void
too much drink downcast in my mental wheel chair and almost destroyed
Went to rehab in South Africa for treatment where God-incidence came
where I met my wife best friend lover soulmate who had suffered the same
Now I sit in the sun in South Africa stopped medicine write story and poem
reinvent my life some inner child stuff self-actualisation and certainly growing
New awareness novel perspectives pacifism philosophy and many questions
but the knowledge that kindness love and compassion are more than suggestions
My most intimate companion apart from my gorgeous wife is depression
both showed me my path journey and meaning my own life’s repossession
So few words about where I come from who I am will become and will be
so if you wish to explore more of my roots and my future please read my poetry
1971 (Hey Dude)
Hey dude, come in, come in.
Been a long time since we last smoked the peace pipe together.
Hey! I think it was during Hendrix’s set in Bethel, dude!
Here, let me move these Rolling Stones out of the way.
and the Taco Bell wrappers… There. Dude, let’s sit.
First, I need to change the record. Let me look here….hmm,
Iron Butterfly? Naw, too psychedelic. Blind Faith?
Naw, they’re too much like Cream. And I’m tired of them.
Hey, how ‘bout Led Zeppelin 3?... Naw, too new;
Ah! Let’s hear some very mellow Traffic music. This is cool dude!
It’s their second album…very trippy music...
Listening to this stuff makes me feel alright!...
Dude, Here you go. That hole there is like a carburetor;
Put your finger on it and draw in. Then, let go. Boom!
Dude! Welcome to the petrified forest, man!
Dude! I been kicking back here thinking about infinity, man.
My mind is constantly being blown thinking about how big the universe is.
Dude, we are so small, so infinitesimal, so minute,
in comparison to the absolute vastness of the universe.
Dude, here we are, riding on this huge ball of dirt,
turning through space at a thousand miles per hour,
and we aren’t even feeling it as we speed along,
like it’s not even happening, man!
You know, dude, we are so small, so very very small,
we’re all just a very small part of this vast solar system
with these humongous planets circling this huge ball of fire,
which are all just a very small part of this humongous Milky Way galaxy,
which is just one of billions and billions of galaxies in the universe…
Man, it makes my mind bend!...
Here, this purple haze from Michoacán will seal the deal, dude…
I also been thinking about God, dude!
We are all so small; we are all like spiders, just spinning our webs…
in this humongous garden called life!
So I must ask Dude:
What is God? Who is God?
I will tell you what God is! I now know! Dude!
Are you ready to hear what God is? …
Ice cream, dude! Ice cream!
Do you want some vanilla ice cream, dude?
I have a gallon in my freezer!
Think of the millions of people in the world right now,
the people of India, South America, Australia and even in Dinuba, California,
who at this very moment, this precise second in time and eternity,
are sitting there, eating vanilla ice cream.
Hey dude! Be right back!
I went to the Hollywood studio meeting
Paul, Steve and Sandy gave me a warm greeting
I was there to advise them, hired from Spain
My motto in business was no pain, no gain
So we sat down to the business at hand
Their movies were sinking, like stones in quicksand.
"How about a cowboy movie," I said...
"Good guys and bad guys with the latter shot dead!"
A gasp of wonder spread to them all
"Why didn't we think of that?" said Paul
Said Sandy, who though rich, struck me as obtuse
"It has to be woke, it must have juice
The cowboy, we'll call him Abdul McPherson
No, wait, we should refer to him as a CowPerson
His love interest should be black or brown
A birthing person, the soul of the town
The villains name could be Donald McKnight
A Donald Trump stand-in, got to be white."
"Wait," said Steve, "cis-male is a relic."
Abdul should be tender, gender-fluid and angelic."
Steve looked at his reflection in the table of mahogany
Added "How about hints of consensual non-monogamy?"
Sandy said "No! We must push the edge with our fans!
Every character, even the horse, must be trans!"
I was sarcastic, I said "for a true creative spark
We know Spielberg had a hit long ago about a shark,
Maybe stick one in the film, somewhere in the sagebrush
A gasp spread around the table, an awestruck hush
Paul shouted, "that's it! Cowperson versus Jaws!
A fable about transgressing natures laws!
Lets start shooting tomorrow, drop that Batman remake:
With this kind of theme, we can't make a mistake!"
Despite guaranteed payment, I was feeling sick
I already knew there was no hope for this flick
But they got so thrilled, they made their bet
Sunk investor millions, their studio further in debt.
I gathered my fees, went back to Spain
And "Cowperson versus Jaws" circled down the drain
To my horror in the credits, they mentioned my name
I was jeered in Madrid, couldn't face the shame.
Paul, Steve and Sandy did fine at the bank
Woke investors kept funding, though the movie stank
Though audiences felt under a dentist's drill
The Critics said the movie was epic, groundbreaking, a thrill.
Geologists say that one day, California will fall into the sea
Its already happened; Hollywood is a parody
Showdown at Noon but no Gary Cooper, can't find John Wayne
Woke Bandits have stolen the gold off the movie train.
Charles Bukowski Road Not Chosen
While reading Charles Bukowski poetry
On the metro ride home
Listening to Buddha bar music
On my oh too hip IPod
I begin to see myself as I was
Over 30 years ago when I was merely a bit player
A minor character in a Charles Bukowski poem
A wild young underemployed intellectual
Hanging out in dismal bars and dives all over Asia and California
Hanging with disreputable women and drunks and drinkers
And characters out of his kinds of haunts
A mad poet bard of the underground
A drunken poet in a drunken bum show
That nightly played in his head
Then one day I met the women of my dreams
And went down a different path
A long slow path to respectability
And now 30 years later
I am no longer a wild man
I am still a poet at heart
But I am now also a bureaucrat
In a button down suite
Doing the people's business
Working for the Government
I've become the Man
Sometimes I wonder
Would I have been better off
Going down that another path
Would I have ended up
Somewhere else
Doing something else
Would I have been as happy
Would I have been as successful?
There is no answer that satisfies
The longing in my heart
For that wild thing
That still lurks beneath
It's civilized cover
And I know that I am still
A mad poet at heart
Railing against the injustice of the world
As I work day by day in the belly of the great beast of State
I recall the ancient Chinese saying,
"Confucian during the day while Taoist rebel at night"
Playing out in my head and nightly dreams
In the true American Upper class patrician tradition
I close the book and look out the window
Get off the train, and walk slowly home
And realize I had no choice
But to take the path that I’ve trodden on
And so I put aside my misgivings
And say goodbye to my "Bukowskian"desires
For another night of domestic contentment
Was it worth it all to take the conventional path
And not take the bohemian road to hell and back
I look at my wife and realize
I had no choice, had no choice
But to follow her to the ends of the earth
And beyond by her side as we walked our path
Of shared destiny
Goodbye Charles Bukowski wherever you are
May I meet you in a bar in the next life
And figure out where we should have gone
Until then the drinks are on me.
It was the summer of ‘70 when we first met in Chicago land.
By the summer of ‘71, I had asked for your hand in marriage,
and YOU SAID YES.
In the summer of ‘72, we said, “I do” and went on our honeymoon.
We later found a cozy apartment in a nice north-side neighborhood.
Less than three months later, we were asked to run a little school.
So, we headed for southern Wisconsin, because again, YOU SAID YES.
Under unfortunate circumstances, the school was forced to close, and in less than 18 months we headed back to Chicago. Our first child was born during
our short-lived stay in Wisconsin. We had great friends there. You could have said, “No, let's stay in Wisconsin”. But you believed in me, and yet again, YOU SAID YES.
Later on, the organization with which I worked secured new leadership, and I
chose to go in a different direction. I found a good new job and an even nicer apartment not far from the lake. Our little girl was less than a year old, but it seemed I was restless and destined to do new things and go to new places.
With a good family, a good job, and a nice place to live, one would think that settling down would be the appropriate thing to do. But within less than a year of being back in Chicago, I spoke to you about moving to Mississippi to help the poor and start a church. I would have understood if you had said no; but in the summer of ‘74, YOU SAID YES.
By the summer of ‘78, the Mississippi fever had run its course, and the California sunshine was heavy on my mind. Although it would take us 2,000 miles away from family and friends, you never said, “No, I don’t think we should go”. But you believed in me, and yet again, YOU SAID YES.
As I look back, you saying yes means so much to me. It means that you have always believed in me during our 44 years of marriage. During those early years, I experienced some defeats and at times was also mistreated.
Had you not believed in me, I am certain that I would have retreated.
For any measure of difference that my life has made and is making in our world, I am indebted to you and grateful to God for bringing you into my life. For all those years that you have stood by my side and always believed in me, I pause just now and say, “Thank you”. I want to thank you for being so kind, and for always being the very best friend of mind.