Long Caps Poems
Long Caps Poems. Below are the most popular long Caps by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caps poems by poem length and keyword.
There at the market place
Onlookers gathered singing the masquerade’s praise.
A visible ghost about to get loose-
Held by its companion, from fleeing like a wandering goose.
The masquerade yearns to dance
Swaying like a drunkard it needs this one chance.
Bells hung on its cloak
Cane in hand seeking a ferocious stroke.
Gloves strapped to the hand
Gins poured as libation for the gods of the land.
Cane drums banging rhythmically loud
Acrobatic flips to amuse the crowd.
The atmosphere was livid
Revealing steps so staunch and sordid.
Soon whips like rain were loosen
As the masquerade’s companions get crimson.
Hats or caps are being despised,
Whips were used on those chastised.
Ara Orun; a progeny of the heaven
Veiled by its cloak from mortal haven.
Grumbling incantations strange to our hearings,
Offerings first before the masquerade find its bearings.
Songs accompany the wailing drum-
As the air was dozed with burukutu the black man’s rum.
Jolting back and front towards the musing crowd
As the song grows eerie loud.
The masquerade sways like a possessed
Shouting to the crowd; “you are blessed.”
Buttocks gracing the sky,
Hands spread like a bird ready to fly.
Is this man or spirit-
Whose charm had enslaved the street?
There is a specific kind of silence that happens on a phone screen
when the uncles in the village post a picture of the dried-up borehole.
They do not add caption text or dramatic emojis;
they just let the cracked mud speak for itself to the cousins in Gaborone
who are busy paying off car loans they can barely afford.
My phone vibrates against the wooden table like an unwelcome heartbeat.
An aunt text-messages a Bible verse about enduring the famine,
typing it in all caps because her eyesight is failing under the dim solar light.
Nobody replies with poetry or clever metaphors.
We just type Amen because it is the only currency we have left to share.
In the city, we pretend we have cut the umbilical cord,
moving between air-conditioned offices and scanning barcodes at the mall.
But you cannot block the dirt road from your bloodline.
A notification pops up about a contribution for a broken tractor part,
and suddenly the salary you haven't received yet belongs to Kachikau.
I remember when news used to travel by foot or on the back of a donkey,
arriving late but carrying the actual breath of the person who brought it.
Now, the emergency arrives in blue ticks and instantaneous panic,
breaking through our neat, modern routines
to remind us that survival is still a collective hustle.
So I don't look for rhymes to soften the blow of these text messages.
I write this down exactly as the screen glows against my face in the dark.
We are a generation caught between the data bundles we buy
and the old soil that still demands our sweat,
waiting for the typing indicator to tell us who we have to save next.
Soul consciousness
Conscience without a body
no brain, no thoughts,
no heart, no emotions,
no grief, no joy,
no smile, no tears,
how can consciousness be?
Soul, an electric stimulus
to enlighten the brain
to make us ponder,
Body else a pile of dust,
will not glow
if soul fails to nurture,
Many souls that surround
put on thinking caps
That chisel and sharpen
to discover logic of life,
A spirit of positivity ...
To be engraved on souls
as consciousness ...
For generations to reinvent
the purpose
Be it followed or not ?
Written May 26th, 2016
Inspired by question 3- Why is it necessary that soul consciousness be achieved while in the physical body? Is this the purpose of our souls being encased in the physical body?
For contest by Catie
An old soldier was laid to rest today with the doleful tones of "Taps."
Family and friends mourned, others respectfully doffed their caps,
To honor another World War Two patriot who saw the battle thro',
Suffering untold hardships to preserve freedom for me and you.
Only eighteen when he was drafted in nineteen forty-two,
He proudly donned his nation's uniform, vowing the foe to subdue.
Old photos displayed at his memorial showed a handsome lad,
Destined to fight in battles in a world that had gone mad.
For months he faithfully perfomed his duty in the European Theater,
Crediting his safe return to Mother's daily pleas to The Creator.
Coming home to a hero's welcome with medals upon his breast;
Lauded by many he modestly replied, "I merely did my best."
Sadly, he was largely forgotten by the powers that sent him to war.
Nonetheless, he reared a loving family - their hero they did adore.
Just an ordinary working man, loving his God, family and nation,
Passing on his unwavering values to each ensuing generation.
Alas, not many of these gallant warriors are still around.
Every day too many are laid to rest in hallowed ground.
To those still among us we should express our gratitude.
The sacrifices they made could have been of no greater magnitude!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Oceans started to rise
As polar caps melted
Meteors fell from the skies
The Earth’s surface was pelted
The days grew dark
Radiation was high
Cosmic sparks
Lit up the sky
Religious zealots started fighting
Earthquakes continued to rumble
Mayan cults were uniting
Governments started to tumble
Fear grew rampant
As death counts mounted
Cities were vacant
Safe havens were touted
People looking for answers
As chaos ensued
Religions needed enhancers
Scapegoats were pursued
Prognosticators saying,
“I told you so
The end not delaying
Pray for your soul”
Humanity extinguished
Except for a few
The prepared distinguished
Who knew what to do
A new world was born
In 2013
The old world forlorn
Never again to be seen
A former place this, a patch where roots rattle,
where stubble has a ferrous frizzle.
A long-truncated railroad stop
humming still with a faded reality.
As dry voices on the wind, they return
- the homesteaders and journeymen,
the harnessed horses.
Pants' cuffs carry kernels
long planted elsewhere.
Caps, coats, and carts
Sweat, rustle and creak,
an invisible locomotion of leaving and arrival.
employed upon an iron labor.
The tall dry weeds are talkative.
Brown boots seem to shuffle
as they wait here or idle.
A hollow clock clacks,
its innards now
are a nest for ticking birds.
Dandelions anticipate twirling flight
under a corn fed sun.
A mid-day heat thrums fragmented rails.
The station seems almost ready
to receive
as if its bygone world
had not forever disembarked.
The frogs have laid their spawn.
Those little jelly blobs looking very good to eat,
like caviar or canape, extravagant, a treat.
They lie close by the waterfall damped by its spits and spots,
those hundred little jelly blobs, those black eye'd jelly dots.
The frogs had gone for years until the pond was built again.
Now with filtered flowing waters mixing oxygen to rain ,
and weedy bits and pieces helping fish to hide from cats,
and lillies in their basket with their shady floating caps.
I sit here on this sunny day and listen to the tune
that water's babble plays to cool a heated afternoon.
Will those tadpole birthing blobs inside their dome cocoons
coincide our breaking out from home's confining rooms?
Please may that be, oh may that be, and may that be quite soon.
Ooh, how he loved
sliding his hands
over the long silkiness,
the youthful curves
of his new wife,
over the negligee
before it rode up…
anticipation like driving a new car -
not comparable,
I know,
and at odds,
depending on
whether you are for the wife
or the car.
Ooh, how he loved sliding his hands
over the hood,
the caps,
the hips,
the back.
He loved the mirrors -
those on
the side or over the bed.
He handled his new ride with care,
the caress with smiles to impress.
The leather new, the scent
of Mon Paris Eau de Parfum.
He’s not a poet, notices not
the moon, sun or stars,
but he can feel his way
in the dark.
In the vast expanse of cosmic grace,
Our tiny world spins, a fragile embrace.
Mankind, a speck on this celestial stage,
Contemplates its destiny with hope and rage.
Do we look to the heavens with fear in our eyes,
Seeking salvation in distant starlit skies?
Or shall we believe that our fate lies here,
Nurturing Earth, our cradle so dear?
With every advance, technology's stride,
We venture to worlds that we dream to abide.
Mars beckons, the Moon calls our name,
But is this the answer to our survival's claim?
Should we build rockets to seek refuge afar,
Escape the blight we have caused, this scar?
Or do we address the root of our plight,
Heal the wounds of our home, make things right?
For Earth, our mother, provides all we need,
From forests to oceans, every fertile seed.
Yet greed and destruction have marred her grace,
Putting in question our future's embrace.
Climate change looms, a warning bell tolls,
Melting ice caps, rising seas, eroding our goals.
Species vanish, ecosystems teeter and sway,
Can we save ourselves if we stray far away?
The answer lies not solely in cosmic escape,
But in stewardship of Earth, for our survival's sake.
We must cherish her resources, treat them with care,
Embrace sustainable living, breathe cleaner air.
With innovation and science, let us devise,
Ways to heal and restore, to be truly wise.
Renewable energy, eco-friendly solutions,
Preserve our planet, the ultimate resolution.
So, as we gaze at the stars, let us not forget,
That our destiny's tethered to this terrestrial set.
The answer to our question, "Can we endure?"
Lies not in abandoning Earth, but making her pure.
For our survival, dear friends, rests in our hands,
To protect and preserve, as nature commands.
Let us not forsake this celestial abode,
But cherish it deeply, for it's our only ode.
Water Flow
Immense cascading waterfalls, deafening sound
Strong whirlpool beneath, mist swirling around
The torrent river below, flowing violently, so swift
Within it’s wake, carrying within it, all that floats adrift
Erosion of once fortified river bank, rocks and trees
Force of the ebb, constantly changing angle and degrees
Rapid flowing river, seeing the white caps within it’s wake
Enveloping all that the waterfalls can give and forsake
Further down the river, her strength and fury subsides a bit
Ever flowing, a new destination, her quest never submits
Turns into a long lazy river, flowing through valleys and plains
Flowing throughout all seasons, whatever all weather contains
The river meets the mighty lake, takes all she can pour in
And replenishes all the water that has evaporated within
This steady cycle ensures the survival of many things
Clean water is essential, giving the life blood it brings