Long Carrier Poems
Long Carrier Poems. Below are the most popular long Carrier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Carrier poems by poem length and keyword.
Gregory's Sanctuary
in response to Gregory's poem
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/my_sanctuary_1204353
He lays on the bed wondering why God is so slow
he whispers to Him by the night lamps under glow
Reading the bible he finds courage and he is able
with the Gospel of John, he gets his quotient stable
He lays there still and ponders like God's Superman
he is never lonely or afraid for it is the Saviors plan
to get him where he needs to be, he's God's warrior
wearing coat of arms, he is His messenger- carrier
When the devil tries to lead him astray with his lies
God's words are a balm for his heart and he sighs,
Reading the bible each day gives Gregory strength
the Lord gives him a promissory love note of length
as he lays on his bed and ponders on God's promise
he feels Omnipotent presence like the Holiest of kiss.
Dec. 1, 2019
BARREN DESERT
I wander in open wide barren desert alone
on camel-ride drawing in the reins,
the only companion of my lone adventure.
Sizzling Sun dazzles, blazes in azure sky.
Off and on sudden gust chasing dust drifting dry sand grains.
Scorching heat pricking piercing penetrating thick garments.
Fiery flame flickering in ambient, even rowdy raven dares to fly.
My eyes blinking, itching, trying to remove flying sand specks.
Camel with long heavy eye lashes suited to confront simoom.
My carrier quite fit to put feet with firm grip
on drowning pull of burning sand.
Camel can sustain long without water owing to fatty hump.
My dry lips need moisture, thirsty throat to be soaked in water
Quarter of my path is traversed and water bottle almost empty.
How could I quench my thirst! Water will not last till I reach destination.
Last week you were strict to spurn burning my heart
and just walked away coolly.
Now I am watching high hardness and void vastness of desert.
Long journey of life ahead, only a quarter is passed.
Whirling heart on septic sullen sensation frantically searching oasis.
I wander the desert alone and wonder to see
emptiness of my heart full of auburn ashes
similar as dry desert devoid of moisture.
Feeling abashed abandoned bewildered in barren desert.
No energy, no power, no wishes left to exert.
Sing a hymn for Georgie Radford
Who used to build ships on the Clyde
Watch them launch down the slipway
With a worker’s quiet pride.
His last job was the giant carrier,
The one they put in mothballs,
Then his dexterity slipped and
He started having sudden falls .
Early onset Dementia they said,
Words to end his working life.
They pensioned and retired him
To to care of his loving wife.
She watched him deteriorate,
Saw him endure that subtle hell
Of being confined in his mind
Trapped in his own mental cell.
She put up with the violence,
Kept it hidden and unseen,
Remembering in her love
The man that had once been.
Then came the stroke that
Left him confined to his chair,
Needing her constant presence
Needing constant help and care.
They sang a hymn for Georgie Radford
Their family workmates and friends
When his long years of torment
Finally ground on to their end.
She stood dry eyed at the funeral
Remembering with love and pride
Her once bonnie Georgie Radford
Who’d built ships on the Clyde
The children stood there with her
As the mourners paraded by
Each one muttering their words
None looking her in the eye.
She accepted their condolences
Knew she been a dutiful wife
But in her mind she felt relief
Ready for the rest of her life.
She missed her Georgie Radford
But human memory is kind
In time erasing all bad things
From a slowly healing mind.
She had grieved him in her way,
As only the truly bereaved can,
Forgetting the tortured wreck
To recall the once healthy man.
Most of the time I am thinking about my pets
Pets others have dumped out
Pets who should probably have therapy but don’t.
One of them is a large pony dog we named Buddy.
He was dumped two months ago; he chews up everything.
Memory foam mattress, shoes, boots, sandals, balls,
bones, doggie chews, doggie toys, spoons, snow scrapers,
spatula handles, cardboard boxes, mouse traps, rulers,
fly swatters, and the lids off of plastic bottles.
Another is my new kitty Nemo who I struggled to get to the vet
for her shots on Saturday only to discover I had brought my cat Shark.
Nemo looks exactly like Shark only half his weight.
He fought me like a tiger when I was pushing him into a kitty carrier.
My other dog Sophie Helen is a worry; when I hear her squeaking
I know that Buddy is bothering her. He is ten times her size-
a giant galoot, and super impulsive.
My children are all grownup; my grandchildren have their friends now.
And their cars, so my time is spent thinking about my pets.
It is a delightful pastime, and they make life worthwhile.
Photo by US Navy WestPack Album—Gorelick 2nd top right
“Not Squared-Away”
Crawling and sliding through slimy debris
Knees scraped raw on the gritty hanger bay
We’re sailors on the carrier Coral Sea
Crossing the equator this bright April day
Our shellback ordeal-just good-natured hazing
A navy tradition; great nautical fun
Like pagons, it’s old King Neptune we’re praising
Great Zeus, let this filthy business be done!
Now shellbacks! We’ve made it unscathed, more or less
We toss our soiled clothes out to the ocean breeze
But I find myself in one hell of a mess
For I left my wallet in my dungarees!
Now drifting away is my navy ID
A grave offense if it’s lost or misplaced
It will no doubt be captain’s mast for me
Where I’ll be demoted! Denounced! Disgraced!
I stand at attention, rigid and straight
The captain shouts: You are not squared-away!
Sweating bullets, I ponder my dire fate
I’ll surely be thrown in the brig today
A lost ID at sea is close to a crime
A gross dereliction, stupid but rare
On just bread and water I will do my time
As I topple down the steps to despair
In solemn dread I now report to the chief
With a churning stomach and anguished mind
But now all fear lifts and I sigh in relief
As he snaps: Get to work; were falling behind
Written 9/11/22
Mystical the Rose
A day 1 day came to me
Without a single thorn adorned
whom nature's bird's and bees flock to
When summer fragrant idol care's
it's fruit and petals to lay bare
And her wing's whilst flying bye
whispered carefree into both
of my long deaf waxy ears
Via the gift of choral chord hummingbird song
Come fly away with me to a higher plane
I'll be your poetic fighter pilot maverick
and you can be my trusted wing man
mother goose
Needed in order so we can both land
aboard the aircraft carrier flight deck
Emblazoned with the befitting name
Higher-Plane of Mysterious Nature
Wax, lard, or what you will,
The candle's form remains until
The wick consumes it slowly on,
Sometimes, if lucky, from dusk to dawn.
But think awhile of what's more deep,
The flame's the soul with the flicker and leap.
When still and calm bright steady it is,
But shaken and stirred with the slightest breeze.
The flame is the soul, dispeller of dark,
It brightens, and burns, with but a spark.
The candle, per se, is worth only the flame,
A corpus, a carrier, worth only it's name.
Great pride do we take in form not context,
The purpose we forget in meaningless quest.
Our health is our wealth, remember it for sure,
But forget not it's purpose - the flame to endure!
On a headstone in the ground,
a life's summation can be found:
born and died and little more
marks the end with an underscore.
Before I die I'd like to say
all that happened along the way.
There's a story to be sure.
Let's begin life's overture.
My life began in celebration;
The War was over across our nation.
A baby boomer I became;
My generation was given that name.
Born on the East coast raised on the West.
Who's to to say, "Father didn't know best"?
Dad's family was left behind
but mother didn't seem to mind.
Childhood was rough and raw.
Money scarce but, from what I saw,
friends and neighbors were in the same boat.
Families worked hard to stay afloat.
We made do with what we had.
In handmade clothes we were clad.
Our imaginations entertained us
while nature's bounty helped sustain us.
Raking, mowing and bottle collecting
provided things we weren't expecting:
to see a movie or buy a mitt.
If you wanted something, you worked for it!
So, I more than survived childhood;
I learned to be all I could.
Two years of college was cause for delay
before I declared Independence Day.
I left my parents; moved far away
excited to do it all my way.
To try my wings without a net,
leaving the nest without regret.
Any job well done is its own reward.
I found many occupations to be explored:
mail carrier, bookkeeper, manager, clerk,
soldier, census taker, service rep, soda jerk.
Made many friends along life's path;
A few have met with life's aftermath.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm still here
but, of death, I have no fear.
Of loves, I've had a few
but the greatest love I ever knew,
is the love of a mother for her son;
With him, my family was begun.
I leave my grandchildren to carry on
the adventure of life when I am gone.
I hope they thrive when they are grown
in a world much different from my own.
The legacy I leave behind,
I wish to be my words and rhymes.
So, on my gravestone may it say:
"Through her poetry, she came this way".
August 31, 2015
For my family
A bundle from the past -
the 1930’s and ‘40’s.
A wisp of his breath…I’m breathless.
Did he know his love story would last?
1941 envelope -
my fingers glide over the sleeve.
I tenderly take out the note,
the sweet poetry…telescope
peering into the days of yore.
Grandpa won his sweetheart with words:
“From a worthless bum,” a treasure,
Grandma and their progeny adore.
Love poems, other’s curious.
One bespeaks of “…is it murder
to help someone dying…in pain.
Contemplation or serious?
The carrier, my sister, brought
back from her travels photos, too.
…and I thought of my mother
her photo, now, an afterthought.
The sentiment held in my heart.
Illustrious words and still lifes
my mind ponders as I grow old.
‘Tis true, one day too, I’ll depart.
I’ll take my time reading the words -
I read some to my attentive spouse.
How lovely we shared that moment -
the nectar of two hummingbirds.
7/6/2022
...
Writing with blue marine and blue sky,
Carrier pigeons based on traditional Christianity,
On lungs, oriental and occidental,
Like Rome and Byzantium,
Notes G and A,
The green olive branch
For the world of Protestants,
Some tentative steps of Reformation against giants and dwarfs,
Coptic and Ethiopian icons in orange,
Red wool in Tibet and Nepal,
Purple violet in the synagogue, here it is the color of preference,
Note B musical,
Light yellow linen for Puritans in spiritual Samaria,
Note E,
The body's temple with the natural rainbow of Noah, David's dance's guiding,
Honey for the eyes,
The rain of Grace,
Blood of the vineyard,
If you bring water,
Like the Samaritan woman near Jacob’s well in dialogue,
May recognize false gurus, fake husbands,
Before the autumn, fall,
Not that grasshopper, dragonfly,
Who arrives in winter and on the Sabbath,
Old, cold, and formal,
Lame and hunchback,
Say the ant,
The good ant bringing spring’s water to the wedding at the Canes,
Good Samaritan with this wine and gold of virgin olive oil in the informal sacrament,
The virginity of the common heart in the paradise of health and life,
Like Tobias and Sarah, Joachim and Anne, blessed parents,
Man of the Third Secret of Fatima,
Father in the forest with cranberries,
Injured brother,
I ask for vengeance,
For this artificial catastrophe in my country, among the people of the Lamb,
Colors of virtues, lines of the way of life by humble providence,
On paper scroll, I draw,
An angel who always sees the Face of the Father and reflects Him with inspiration,
Sign of Jonah in Snow White's hand,
Christmas star, little prince,
The lighthouse against the growing tsunami...