Long Camera Poems
Long Camera Poems. Below are the most popular long Camera by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Camera poems by poem length and keyword.
Twenty odd years ago I was driving towards Oxford. As I came round a bend there were three vehicles involved in a horrific crash. I was first on scene so called 999 and reported it.
The van was on fire and we only managed to get one person out before the flames drove us back. There were four people in it. We cleared the car and the taxi of walking wounded.
It took over 35 minutes for rescue services to start arriving. First were the Fire Brigade followed by Ambulance and Police. I returned to my car. As I was sat there a man walked past, his hands behind his back. He was holding a camera, he stood by the burnt man and started to take photos. I told a fireman what he was doing and he spent him off. As he walked by me I said how callous he was. His reply Ma'am its my livelihood, I don't know what yours is I replied I sell Accident insurance and you don't see me being a ghoul. He walked off.
Unfortunately one photo made it to the front page the following day. It was his pure callousness that got me, it was bad enough to have to sit there hearing the screams of the dying and injured people and to small the awful smell of people being cooked alive, but to then stand beside a man who was conscious and knew his mates were dying. How can such a person call them selves a human?
After two hours we were finally diverted and able to leave. The horrific memories of that day will haunt me forever. Twelve people of which 8 died, three at scene five later in hospital. I drove past nearly six years later and the scorch marks were still visible. I hope none of you ever have to experience what I saw and heard that day.
contest: Moment of Truth written 05/16/2013
like a warm breath of air,
he hovers in my memory.
no Superman in other’s eyes,
a meek soul, but for me a true legend.
he was a jack of all trades.
he epitomized love and gentleness.
hard-working and committed to his family,
he was not one to squander his time.
he toiled day in and out
to feed those who he loved and sired.
what was he?
a teacher, a farmer, or an artist?
I cannot say precisely...
all I can say;
he was each of these
rolled into one.
I don’t think there was anyone like him around.
he was my English teacher at school,
and how proud I am of all that he taught me.
on holidays I saw him
shut in the loft, a brush in hand,
his fingers moving over the canvas.
the steaming tea by his side,
untouched and getting cold as ice.
unmindful of everything around,
he sat by the easel in the attic.
focused only on the strokes that fell.
when a distinct image shoots out,
as the moon from behind clouds,
a wave of satisfaction would gleam
across his face,
his frantic nerves at once hushed
bearing the look of one
who, in an instant, conquered kingdoms.
he would view it from different angles.
never seek anyone’s opinion
but gloating if he saw
our admiring eyes fell on it.
he was an avid reader too
and a skilled photographer.
the black and white photos
he caught in his camera still adorn our walls.
being artistically inclined,
he lived more in the world of art.
but gradually things changed.
to his fright, he found his hands shaky
and the lines on the canvas
going tremulous and disjointed.
couldn’t hold a brush!
the zealous man grew numb,
as the curtain of years fell on his stage!
on diagnosis of Parkinson’s disease,
his world abruptly lost its sheen.
he saw the disease weeding
its way into his life.
suddenly grown old,
he lost interest in everything.
we saw him sitting in his armchair,
so immobile, for hours on end,
his eyes stretched to a far horizon.
we displayed before him,
paintings once born of his imagination
to see if his world would brighten
and it worked!
recently, in one of my dreams,
I saw him sitting at the feet of Michael Angelo,
to learn the art, he couldn’t perfect
in his lifetime!
All Dreams Matter
In a dream I envisioned all of the “protestors” dropping their banners, joining hands, making an agreement to meet every evening for as long as necessary to bring about the changes that would ensure the meaning of the lives that matter.
Imagine what could happen if those thousands of people gathered in a neighborhood, walked through the streets and playgrounds picking up the drug paraphernalia that endangers their children; sat on the park benches as children played of a summer evening; stood as one in the face of the drug dealers.
Imagine what could happen if the preachers stopped preaching and started acting; politicians stopped pontificating, showed up when the camera crews left.
Imagine what could happen if the protestors stopped shouting and started talking to each other, listening to each other, sat down with each other to share a cup of coffee, a sunset, an evening without fear.
All lives matter…..to someone….Every death is a scar upon humanity. Every tear an acid pain etched into a heart, every night an endless darkness, every sunrise an emptiness.
I dream dreams too long dreamt, too long unfulfilled.
I close my eyes in silent protest of shattered dreams hoping that somehow we can piece the dreams together because all dreams matter.
John G. Lawless
7/14/2015
You stalk me through the flashing haze,
your shutter catching all my ways;
I pose like I'm not keeping score,
but crave the click, then beg for more.
You linger where the shadows bend,
my secret rival, closest friend;
your lens undresses every truth,
I glow for you, eternal youth.
You chase me down the midnight street,
I slow my stride so we might meet;
your breath behind me, warm and near,
a whispered fame I long to hear.
We orbit in a fevered spin,
you want my world, I want your grin;
obsession twines us, tight and bright,
two silhouettes in borrowed light.
So take your shot, my favorite view.
I shine because you're watching too.
For all those who’ve been captured by my camera lens,
I wish we could do it all over again.
But time waits for no one despite what we see,
In images made of you and me.
In the snap of a shutter or the blink of an eye
A memory is frozen like tinsel in time.
Shiny and shimmering like diamonds and pearls
Each one a treasure, immeasurable world.
Yet never to last beyond dawn’s early light
As the picture of now is an illusory sight.
To have and to hold like water in hand
Hasten photographers to do what we can.
To coax, cajole, position and prompt
People and places to do what we want
To fill up our cameras with just the right touch –
Never too little, never too much.
With just the right color, right texture, right mood –
A slim slice of life that says what, where and who.
In a gathering of pixels of zeros and ones,
Technological marvel mixed with light from the sun.
And oh what a ride I’ve had by your side
Be you stranger, family or friend,
Throughout the years of trying to make clear
What’s moving like clouds in the wind…
People, places, flowers and trees,
Sun rising and falling on rivers and seas.
Small creatures and features of wood, sand and rain,
Sky scrapers and ruins of ancient remains.
The famous and infamous, lost and found;
The good, bad, beautiful and perennially profound.
Healthy, wealthy, humble and weak;
Down and out with nothing to eat.
But your smile most of all is my favorite frame;
Vignette of your memory, your life and good name.
Etched now in the hues of bold colors and grays
With gratitude I have you to reflect upon today.
“No photographs!” the guards implored.
To my surprise, they were ignored.
The cell-phone cameras snapped away,
No matter what the guards did say.
The guards were powerless, of course.
No one could possibly enforce
A rule like that among the crowd
Who could care less what was allowed.
Back in the pre-cell-camera day,
A rule meant that we’d all obey.
Yet modern times cause folks to question;
Rules are seen as mere suggestion.
How far will defiance go?
That is what I’d like to know.
When people drive right past red lights,
We’ll see what mischief that incites.
I grew up following the rules
And so, with other likewise fools,
I will abide by set commands
Before society disbands.
I have photographed the happiest weddings of all
And one of the saddest.
I have photographed children jumping, leaping, and playing.
And one in her casket.
I have been invited to parties, teas, plays, symphonies, and picnics.
I have been left outside in the rain, and inside trunks under coats.
I have laid in wait for days, wondering if would ever be used again.
I have been loved and hated.
I have caused people to say cheese, to laugh, and to give bunny ears.
I have been places where people got angry at me instantly, on sight.
I never know what is going to happen, or when I will be replaced.
gone-
like the ray of the sun clutched by thunder's clouds,
the grey converting the blue-
the once sunny sky
now falls with tears,
pleading for sorrow, forgiveness,
any form of guilt until there's hail
and it unfolds.
Emotions take their roll,
rewinding the camera-
the only witness of the disaster,
but still proof.
If only the proof weren't so easily stamped on,
beaten by the wings of the tornado,
swallowed by lightening's threat,
struck once,
twice,
only to realize the third time's a charm,
the third time so rare,
only occurs when vulnerability is shown,
or the neglection of change.
But you don't seem to care,
you've scooped up your remains,
thrown out my heart, stomped on it until it lye flat,
uneven,
extinct.
I can't bare to think you even care,
not even the slightest bit
because this hail falls and the thunder yells at you,
so you've lost sight of the sun,
you've lost sight of reality's touch,
you don't trust the light no more,
then again,
neither do I...
So, can you afford this place by yourself?
Yeah, I did the maths.
Okay, I’ll take the washing machine, you take the couches.
You're kidding, the washing machine was a present, you take the couches.
I know how to work the washing machine.
Well, I know how to work the coffee machine, but I don’t make a song and dance about it.
Was that why you phoned the plumber when it ran out of water?
I didn’t phone him for that, I was getting a quote for something plummery I was thinking of doing.
Plummery, is that computer speak. Which reminds me, laptop, I’ll be taking that.
You’ll have to wait till I put it back together.
What do you mean, put it back together, it’s new.
I know it’s new, but now it’s super new, with 50G installed.
50 G hasn’t been invented yet.
It has now, with my new revolutionary thought processor and rewind imagery camera.
Have you finally gone nuts, you see what I’ve had to put up with the last five years.
Well, I can’t tell you what you’ve put up with the last five years, but I can for the last six months.
Okay, you’re beginning to worry me now, what have you done?
I installed a chip in you. Pick a date in the last six months, and I’ll show you what you were doing.
You’re mad, okay, December the 11th.
Right, just put that date in, okay let’s view. You’re having a coffee morning with your sisters and wait, you’re slagging me off as usual, tut tut.
My god, this is madness, you’ve finally lost it.
Oh! you haven’t seen anything yet, let's check out Dec 13th. Oh look, it’s you and the plumber in what seems to be a posh hotel.
So it is, do I look hot or what?
That wasn’t my first thought, I must admit, maybe you could explain yourself.
Isn’t it obvious, I mean, you installed the bloody chip, what part don’t you understand?
I don’t understand why you’re with my plumber on the date he promised to install my new revolutionary coffee maker.
By Sashi.Prabhu(zeauoxian0
(18th February 2012 nite at Kentucky shack on colva beach)
I was browsing through the menu and laid my eyes upon interesting cocktails and mock tails.
I snapped up the names with the blackberry camera and wove them together to couplets.
Dedicate this one to my friends who love and cherish the cocktails and mock tails.
Cheers……………………………
With love from zeauoxian, black lady, Tom Collins,
Three peaks merlot, white lady, John Collins.
Between the sheets, pink pusy, screaming ******,
Pink lady, lost bikini, ******.
Misty nite, hairy navel, ding a ling,
Sunset, buttock clencher, Singapore sling.
Lady killer, fuzzy navel, coconut diaquiry,
Bloody Mary, fenny wenny woo woo, orange diaquiry.
Pure calypso, climax, kick in the balls,
Caribbean fever, planter’s punch, rocks for the dolls.
Peach pleasure, tequila sunrise, margarita,
Pina coloda, sunset, caipirnha.
Coco colada, slippery dick, the hammer,
Gimlet, sweet nips, tequila slammer.
Passona orange, passona lime, sex on the beach,
Orange blossom, lime blossom. Passionate peach.
Gin fiz, Cuba libre, Roby Roy,
Black lagoon, black Russian, beach buoy.
Fight fiesta, stinger rum cocktail, side car,
Negroni, pink elephant, brandy lime shot from the bar.
Mohjito, long island iced tea, whiskey sour,
Renaissance merlot, vina tarapoca chardonnay.
All these heady concoction,
Many of them and lots of action.
The science of achohol blending, of the art of mixology,
All these to the tipper is fun and to do with a smooth tripology!!!!!!!!