Long Cartwheel Poems

Long Cartwheel Poems. Below are the most popular long Cartwheel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cartwheel poems by poem length and keyword.


furrows of life

The  furrows of Life
 
The narrow way leading up to the farm from the main
the road had a gate, so cattle could not wander off to
the main road getting. The way had three furrows, two
caused by a narrow cartwheel and one- much wider- from
the horse´s hoofs. Deep furrows meant a hard-working
farm. The landscape was flat and often windy on my
way to school, I tried to walk where the horses had trod
the soil was softer there, the horseshoe patterns told
me if it had been a small or big horse that last had pulled
a cart here if the load had been heavy
A useless knowledge, I often wonder
why do I remember it so clearly
 like a black-and-white photo?
Lately, I have been remembering these dirt road
 the people and animals 
I often wonder if there is a message here 
I have overlooked it.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC


Premium Member words have their own ways and means

I take a word and tear it apart
carwash
car jumps off the page and drives off
wash nabs ing and makes it stay
I add machine to washing
washing machine, an old-fashioned term
does anyone use it anymore?
Or is it like mathematics, reduced forever to math?
Bubbles fill up the laundry room
Bubba does a cartwheel as the bubbles dissipate
cart and wheel, I split them up too
Now they remind me of a prairie schooner not a gymnast’s trick
Bubba gloats a bit because he added the A himself after splitting from les
Words are stubborn, opinionated, they have their own ways and means
I stand back, watching in awe, wondering what their next move will be.
A slave of words.

Premium Member I Love You Even In Far Off Place

I LOVE YOU EVEN IN FAR OFF PLACE

Fever of love cartwheel snaillike but where are you?

Round six o'clock noon, sunken is the moon gazing
behind deep orange-aubergine feather skies,
its shadowy light floods the shivering sea,
I, standing still amidst the tickling water,

my teary eyes softly wander upon endless horizon,
my hypothermic skin long for the kisses puffed by you.
Barefooted, I amble along the silky sands
seagulls fingers rushing to caress my feet but

droplets of August rain run fast above my head.
The crisp wind wafts whispering something in my ear
t'was the songs we sang second week of February
honeysuckle times gone but still my celcius sprint.

Softly, I tread back to memoirs playing a chemistry
where there catena  of  reactions  descry  revealing we...
Cleansed from river tears, blessed by suns of home,
my heart didn't surrender in wanting your presence soon.

Crossing limitless borders where our lamp is trust,
the choice to continue gleams in the name of freedom,
as we daily counteract two strategic villains:
the odd times and the eight thousand miles distance.

Yes, afar but this NOT THE BARRIER. Us baring our souls.
Us stepping onward, offering ourselves, to attain one goal.
I  listened close to your voice as we talk by phone
My oh my, your tone,  your giggle magnify my thoughts!

but   this  not  enough   'cause   I   yearn  to  hold  you  most.

I want to ask: what is it that's not in my heart
that fate acted so long in keeping us apart?
Perhaps... Ah perhaps! This must be for us 
to rightly spell the language of love...

The long distance vanguished, frozen fears diminished,
sapphire eyes cushioned by cherry color skin sings
as he stares whole from rosy chocolate coated cutis
to eyes touching tears, directly screaming: "I love you..."
__________________________________________________________
EPIC ---ONLY - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name -- SKAT A
~7th Place~

Olive Eloisa Guillermo
10:59am, July 24, 2015
Form: Epic

Premium Member I'm One Hundred!

And so it is that on this day,
I can loud and proudly say,
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

I still remember the dust bowl,
and now I’ve reached this lofty goal.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

And what do I get when I reach this goal?
My reward is a peach in my oatmeal bowl.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

Even I was once a kid! 
And I can remember what I did. 
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

In hide and seek I outdid.
Nobody found me, I’m still hid.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

Climate change is on its way.
It gets hotter every day.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

There’s a reason why I still care.
Though, I don’t need to cut my hair.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

Life was harder once for sure.
Oh, the hard work I did endure!
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

And new skills, now I must hone.
In order to use my new iPhone.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

I’ve seen it all through my own eyes.
Everything I say is wise.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

I’m the smartest one around.
Everything I say is sound.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

But I can no more do a cartwheel. 
At the very least, I’ll break a heel.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

No, a back flip I cannot do. 
I’ll break at least a bone or two.
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!

My great-grandchild was born today.
In a hundred years, he’ll toot his horn to say:
I’m one hundred!
I’m one hundred!
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sea Life

A dance of elegance they leap
in grace of movements sweep
moonlights skipping on the waves
upon the circuits the currents paves

A Spanish Dancer twirls her skirt
whose painted like a rainbows shirt
Your works oh Jah blanket the Sea
where creatures frolic internally

Where Leafy Dragons in Reefs foray
the clown fish in anemone play
the razor fish like knives in sand
but foolish men think it's not planned

Where fierce and tender Orca steals
the infant pups of many Seals
where coral forests the oceans floor
the groves of Kelp hide many more

Odd companions the crab and shrimp
who share a hole like common tent
on flows the cisterns of the Deep
the lair where Leviathan do sleep

There flying fish cavort on wing
wild aquatic souls live and sing
here Dolphins cartwheel in escapade
in pods their dancing a parade 

Who understands the Songs of Whales
who carry calves and smack their tails
to starfish who cling the rock of Beaches
here low tides the mussels reaches 

These lives mankind has proved a danger
to poison Seas palace he is no stranger
Here predator man competes with Sharks
in every Sea his fatal marks

The Shark only does his hunt for meal
Mankind's a predator who kill and steal
Toxic pollution down rivers flow
the dead zones that kill the life below

Life perpetuates itself by designers plan
We question it's survival , it's death by Man
Those who love the earth these traits resist
There's too much beauty divinely kissed 

COPYRIGHT © 2014 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member Oh, Snowman

Oh, snowman, what now did you do?
Your cartwheel has not favored you!
Your feet in the air...
head grounded you stare.
Your upside-down stance is askew!

I built you with such loving care;
to stand like this just isn't fair.
Must take you apart
to build from the start,
and place your head up in the air!

But then, I changed planning...instead,
to make you upright, be ahead...
to top ball moved eyes,
nose, mouth, scarf...surprise!
My snowman with super-sized head!


Sandra M. Haight

~3rd Place~
Contest: Upside Down World
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Judged: 01/05/2018
Form: Limerick

Premium Member Writing With Weeping Words

Wistful weeping willow why do you cry,
did you espy your leaves falling from on high?

They can’t cling on when a breeze is around,
see them cartwheel as they float to the ground.

Watch how they are dancing now they are free,
see them waltz as they lose their grip on the tree.

Long leaves spiral down and they land in the stream,
they planned their escape; they’ve achieved their dream

Wistful weeping willow you have no reason to cry;
when the wind blows, wave your leaves a last goodbye.

10-06-17

It's the end of the forms series contest
Sponsored by Broken Wings

Entered into Couplet Contest
Sponsored by Laura Loo
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Buzz Off

I swung with a vengeance but missed that damned fly
The breeze I’d created caused him to pass by
My electric racquet in underarm mode
Still failed to make that bluebottle explode

It filled me with hate as it buzzed round my plate
I swung and I swung and became more irate 
That foul little demon was soon to be dead
As soon as it took itself off of my head

Now, I’m not a coward in anyone’s book
But I’m in no hurry to smell my brain cook
I angled my zapper to strike as it rose
And almost set fire to the tip of my nose

It flitted at speed like a Pac-Man on heat
But I am a human… I will not be beat
My dinner was cooling and it wasn’t salad
I’ll murder that fly and then write me a ballad

Overarm, underarm, back-hand and flip
My energised racquet was firm in my grip
At one point it landed on chandelier-high
And I had to wave that light fitting goodbye

My sausage was cold (can we please keep this clean)
And I had become a fly killing machine
A back somersault and a cartwheel or two
My electric racquet had flashed neon blue

Poor little Tiddles, she trusted me so
Her recuperation has some way to go
But I’ll give her cuddles and snuggles and then
I dearly regret that I zapped her again 

Twas kinda Dick Whittington, but in reverse
Tiddles left home and I don’t know what’s worse
My poor little kitten is out on her own 
But that demon-fly is at rest on my phone

How great the temptation to say what the hell
And batter that fly and my iPhone as well
But then it took off and it sped through the air
I swung and I swiped and set fire to my hair

Okay I confess; just a few hairs got singed
But I don’t have many and that’s why I whinged
In anger I swiped at the sound of its hums
Which came close to giving me two deep fried plums

How bloody long can a bluebottle live
My electric racquet and I cannot give 
Yet more gymnastics to vanquish our foe
As I shoot some volts through my right hand big toe

I whirled like a dervish and now on a mission
I swung like a thing that had infra red vision
But, boy, did I cheer at the quiet little ‘phut!’
As that fly took a window to find it was shut

                               ***

But now I feel guilty for I’ve done okay
Though I don’t know who saw me swinging away
I owe my new job to that small airborne menace
My local school wants me to teach the kids tennis
Form: Rhyme

Brain Drain

Wearing dinosaur boots
blundering through the city lights
of a brain high on low energy.

Being a concrete Tarzan
bending only to crumble
at the waist
while within me
a jungly place rains ripples.

Riding a speeding bullet train,
watching a fizzy sky crap on the window,
some idiot shouting: "Nothing can stop us now!"

A cow chugs beer, orders fries to go,
maybe the 'fries' are just a false memory,
most likely all this mash-up
is only a dreaming pipe-dream.
"Everyone should have a dream,"
some other idiot shouts.

Now or some time later,
I am mansplaining to a woman,
(her hair is so red
that it stops all oncoming traffic).
I manfully - painfully
describe just what a monkey-cart looks like,
trouble is I have only one morose monkey,
and one broken cartwheel.
She gets angry and confiscates my monkey.

All this has happened before I fell asleep,
I am almost convinced, yes it must have been.
Now I am swinging from a lamppost,
like some drunk after a Football League brawl.
"Dizzy times ahead," a pissing dog declares.
"Go Huston Oilers," I mumble, (I have no clue,
being irredeemably disinterested).
The mutts one akimbo limb
rests its case.

Somewhere in a swampy part of Ohio
An idiot shouts like an alarm clock
it's a piece of time
just loud enough to rattle dead bones.
I listen intently,
reluctantly I have to admit
that it really is a good impersonation.

inland Algarve

The Inland Algarve

The landscape is so oddly shaped.
Had once been a domestic landscape, 
where the scent of wild herbs and the whisper
 The wind through olive branches told stories of past lives,
Walking along a narrow cartwheel
Tracks I often come across the remnant
Of dwellings that once had housed
Poverty-stricken people who had
Ploughed small and reluctant fields
Olive trees had grown wild and tall
Bearing bitter fruit.
Some walls had no purpose, sinking.
Back to earth, becoming rocks again.
A haunted landscape in the inland Algarve,
 a region rich with a history of Moorish influence
 and traditional farming,
Algarve, and no one saw it doomed
Beauty.
Rabbits and boars peacefully roam, embodying 
the natural serenity that still whispers through the land.
And sheep grazed in the gloaming.
Stillness, yet I sensed voices that once
Had loved and lived struggling
Against poverty and early death.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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