Long Catapulting Poems
Long Catapulting Poems. Below are the most popular long Catapulting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catapulting poems by poem length and keyword.
The earth opens its hungry gut looking at us
The earth opens its craving gut laughing at us
The heat is twirling meticulously in the dust
And big eyes are popping out of the sky
with an appetite that says do or die
The earth is yearning and munching at its gum
Sweet tooth sweet corn rising from the bottomless pit
And a solemn appetite mingled with a desire that is unfit
The inner core burns with lust and a strange desire
you cannot trust creeps slowly upon us
As the heat burns the outer crust vibrate
and the trees struggle to hold their gravity
and the animals run for safety
I begin my journey looking for food
I pass through village and town chopping down trees
And digging up ground
catapulting houses all around
My search for food takes me round and around
My search for food pulls down cities and towns
Every time you walk upon the earth,
You come in contact with spirits and dirt
Someone had occupied that rigid spot
Someone made that deadly shot
Though the dust remains on the earth,
Their spirit and soul live inside the outer crust
You might weep and mourn their memories,
or build a giant memorial in the sky but the flesh
will never come alive again ,
The earth is where it all began
with the sordid penitence of man
Speaking to mankind’s conscience
The memories of yesterday hang on fallen trees
Holding chunks of earth in its roots
and walking around in water boots
You cannot replace the fleeting time
And hold memories that are divine
It’s you and me that is walking in the middle of the sea
It is you and me that is yearning for victory
The life in you still remains strong,
And the passing of time cannot be framed.
The good or bad that you do,
have their appointments in the sun, wind and the rain
While you celebrate the gift of life many more will have to die
The earth is a reminder that mankind must pay the sacrifice
I walked the earth for a year without shoes
and I could feel the pressure when I step on the ground
The bile is bubbling up in my gut
And the saliva in my mouth tastes bitter
The earth with cracks and holes
and giant size tectonic plates
Are waiting patiently at the gate
Take the narrow road through the village
and cross over the river.
The earth will regurgitate.
Desperation is destruction
It position you
In the side of frustration
Moving without destination
Always wanting others approbation
What the society endows
You always confide in
Can't fight for what you want
Always fitting into the box.
Desperation
Is a dysfunction
Instant gratification
Putting you in stagnation
It breaks you
Making you to be station
Instead of been flexible
You become still
Making you mentally ill.
Desperation
Is manipulation
Catapulting you into a place
Filled with commotion
Instead of promotion
Blurring your vision
Blindfolding you from reality
Into delusions and illusion.
From generation to generations, thy redeemer lives
From age to ages, He never fails
In all dealings, thy conquer
He always come through, breaking chains and shackles
The undisputed CHAMPION, without dispute
Who is like thee, Our Champion... MOST HIGH in fairyland!!!
Always fair and consistent, Above
Elevator of, the Low at buttom
Finds the lost, makes a way
Beautiful and worthy in all ways, maker of heaven and earth
Breeder of light and dark, maker of night and dawn
Giver of all, relentlessly
Dynamic leader, catalysts of growth, catapulting the down cast
Sitted, above and below, rewarder of, the good and bad.
Mine fervent aspiring political activism...
Gunning gusto, (while rosy axles grind)
for Bernie Sanders dagnabbit
nipped in figurative bud triggered zilch
prospects to germinate,
cultivate, and amalgamate
late blooming spore port as
schlocky, reedy, quirky, political neophyte,
whose aura, charisma, dogma
enigma, persona... absent gregarious masculinity.
Scant hours after posting Facebook message
Monday February 17, 2020
(regarding becoming linkedin
among Bernie Sanders's supporters
within Southeastern Montgomery Pennsylvania
hinting genuine motive (mine of course)
to join local grassroots bandwagon
electing catapulting aforementioned
Democratic candidate president,
into Oval Office
overwhelmingly elected
Tuesday November 3, 2020
an unexpectedly pleasant forthcoming response
(courtesy Jon Hall seven nine five eight at gmail)
informed yours truly transcendently, telepathically
inspired debate watch party
would be (accompanied when in full swing)
by most popular contra dance bands,
and eminently choreographed counting
topnotch cadres of policy wonks
upstairs at Molly Maguire's Irish Restaurant
(197 Bridge Street,
Phoenixville, Pennsylvania)19460
slated for Wednesday
March 19th, 2020 at 2000 hours military time.
Guess what dear readers...?
Yours truly, (an aging,
albeit eternally youthful
long haired pencil necked geek)
never experienced sought after fraternization
think ennobling rite of northwest passage
comprising electrifying informality
getting plugged into self-described
indomitable enthralling brouhaha
starring none other than
Democratic socialist and independent senator
from Green Mountain state
(by Samuel de Champlain in 1647)
Bernie Sanders exuding vim and vinegar
at age seventy eight
heartily hailing (no kidney ying)
who served in government since 1981.
I showed up at designated place
and specified time,
and got politely informed
courtesy young attractive hostess,
no such arousing, inspiring, spine tingling...
commingling of eager electorates slated,
thus overzealousness (mine)
bit the dust i.e. never got kickstarted.
Volition, orientation familiarization aahing
and oohing within restrictive paradigm molding
inviolable honorable gentility -
flagrantly, desirously, clearly boyz abandoning
willfully skirting, panting (heavily)
forfeiting abominably, (no Joe King) abiding
chomping at bit, damning delineated, or obscure
parameters, between one acceding
Earthlinked selfish living
psychosexual pining human bing,
and another ardently avowedly ambitious
altruistic agent provocateur (lol)
at first blush hinting Moulin Rouge adulation
under dim (witted) lighting accenting
individual randy salient
traits savoring tête-à-tête
tasty hors d'oeuvres accentuating
nuances highlighting flirtatious countenance
initially unconditionally stubbornly accepting
dire hormonal straits
as prickly fledgling acquaintanceship
quivers, negotiates, kickstarts abolishing
inchoate biochemical protracted coupling
conveniently interpreting accessing
breeching, catapulting Dickensian estuary,
non verbal communication nsync abridging
painstakingly erecting complex edifice
suavely, urbanely, wittily accessorising
tried and truevalue tricks acclaiming
debonair heroic manliness princely
qualities dutifully dominate directing
demure damsel in distress absconding
convincing, foreplaying, jimmying,
rollicking readily acclimatizing
challenges thrust up gracefully parlaying
most savvy serious similarly sophisticated
totally tubular testosterone tactics
versatile repartee accomplishing
dynamics cultivating atavistic romantic ballet
on duh poe whit tick abutting
metaphorical foot accoutering
trappings adorned since mythological
Adam and Eve accrediting
latter, sans virile unavoidable temptation
savoir faire verboten fruit, accelerating
action whereby unsuspecting, slithering,
lurking serpent teen accounting
rattle unheard by apse cent church fathers
subsequently excoriating, condemning, accusing,
nonetheless indomitable transcendence achieving
pinnacle of prostrate poignancy
inexpressible ecstasy acquiescing
nonpareil acquisition adulation activating
ascendence assaying administering
amorousness activating. aching.
The buzzing bee, moves swiftly around the shaking trees, absorbing the tainted honey. Suspense is flowing in the air with a message that is loud and clear, and the sound of the cracking leaves is dancing with the unforgetful wind. Its wind, water, air and fire that is mixed up with the tempestuous sorrows and the growing sound of the music band is battling in the far away land.
The pounding sound of the boisterous cloud spreads its ash on grass land moving shattering windows of doubt in front of corridors of hope. I wasn’t sure if I was asleep or it was my imagination passing through the breeze but something awake to the thundering sound of a mountain owl in the distance; it shook the earth for five minutes and tens second.
It spilled ashes mixed with stone, dirt and thick lava filled with chatter and laughter. Everyone watched the amazing scene with curiosity and excitement, a work of art fashioned out of nature spewing out of the natural ground heading to where destiny is bound.
It carved out holes in the gigantic rocks forming an island that is deadlock. If you look long enough you will understand how the world was form, and you could scoop it up in the middle of your palm. Is it God or the creation, or is it the avalanche, the volcano or the titanic. If you look long enough you will see the truth in volcanic rocks.
This self contained island formed in front of me wraps its corners all around me, a beauty that no one can resist, and a passion that hardly anyone knew exist. It fills the deep, coral reefs at the bottom of the sea and colorful fish swimming around with glee. Big fish and small fish standing in line catapulting like a sea eagle in the sky as destiny floats by.
There are plenty of volcanic rocks to put your picnic basket on and motor boat to take me to and from the distant island. Oh what beauty is set out before us, oh what strength is taken from the sea and the danger that lies ahead has sunken underneath the sea bed, and sea is the gateway through the door as beauty rest solemnly on the seashore. Out of danger beauty is formed, and out of struggle a new career is born.
Introspective Agony
Shattering all the imagery, my mirrored visions lost inside
Catapulting out the memories I should've never left behind
Gliding on deceptive Angel Wings, wind chilled in silent lies
Gasping for the air I need while breathing my goodbyes
To arrogant to accept the unacceptable things of fate
The paradox of this frantic Being annihilating what I create
Scientific mathematically writing solutions that won't equate
Walking the inside out of all the emotions we complicate
Last chance thought collectively, the three of me must decide
Is suffering worth the agony if in happiness we never cry
The inefficiency in disaster seeking, two worlds one mind collide
Time lost in the catastrophe of never living but have I died...
Revised: 05/14/17
For Contest: "Introspect" Deep inside you
for some reason
around your fortress
you’ve built
insurmountable blockades
and from their safety
you thrive on lashing out
catapulting showers
of fireballs
and cannonballs
it took a while for me
to realize we were at war
I simply didn’t know
in hindsight it’s been going on for years
but I really truly didn’t know
I knew enough to keep my distance
and stay out of the firing range
you’ve always had me
walking on eggshells
why? I haven’t got a clue
after all these years
to tell the truth
somewhere along the way
I simply finally lost interest
so keep doing what you’ve got to do
and I’ll continue
liking you the way you are
the last of eggshell crumbs
have turned to lovely sand
and your fireballs
now look to me
like nothing less
than fireworks display
AP: Honorable Mention 2022, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on June 16, 2021 for contest ALL YOURS (JUN 17) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - 1ST PLACE
I once lived in high Montana
and I knew a man who live there,
went by the name Rodrigo,
known to most for his wild hair.
But Roddy didn’t grow it long
to try and impress some girl,
Roddy was a history nut,
obsessed with the medieval world.
He had all sorts of goblets,
tankards, and great drinking horns,
he must’ve owned a dozen swords,
but was always buying more.
Roddy owned full chain-mail armor,
wore it to the renaissance fair,
and he paid no heed to the folks
who would shake their heads and stare.
But Roddy’s greatest possession
was one he built with his own hands,
Roddy had a full-sized catapult
and would launch stuff across his land.
One day I went to see my friend
and he was launching things out back.
He said,”Get me that watermelon,
and we’ll launch our next ‘attack.’”
We loaded up the giant fruit,
and laughed as it took to flight,
said he,”If launching fruit be wrong
then to hell with being right!”
Next we took a bunch of apples
to achieve a shot-gun effect.
I cracked a joke and Roddy laughed,
so hard we didn’t see what came next.
A black bear in the woods nearby
saw the apples in their pile,
and wouldn’t find a meal that good
if he wandered a dozen miles.
He ran out onto the scoop
while we were both still laughing,
Roddy pulled the lever, unaware,
and he sent the bear a-flying!
The bruin’s moan caught us both
as apple and bear too to sky,
across the field to lodgepole trees
did the beast and his lunch fly.
He disappeared in the branches,
vanishing from our line of sight,
I stood stunned, said to Roddy,
“Should we go see if it’s allright?”
Roddy shrugged and started walking,
we both made our way over there,
high up in an old lodgepole pine
sprawled a frightened, confused bear.
The branches had broken the fall,
saved the beast from being dead,
I said to Roddy,”We should go
before that bear can clear its head.”
Roddy took a picture on his phone
to prove what had happened that day,
then we beat a hasty retreat
before the bear could come our way.
To this day Roddy still recounts,
in his booth at renaissance fairs,
how catapults can launch anything,
even hungry and wayward bears.
Nope!, this aint a
(non) commercial
Christmas plug for ye,
nonetheless, a greeting
of joie de
vivre buttressed with
(wreath) in this ole
foreign nicked saint wannabe
awash with spiritual
awakening unexpectedly
alighting boosting, and catapulting,
the mood of this
dog gone intro
spective atheistic he
then for merely "actively listening,"
sans texting to me,
(thine youngest daughter) hook
confided a circumstance,
that found her teary
eyed, whereat papa (meself)
galvanizing enervating,
and bold facing
(italicized optional),
a decades long glee
(son) doting dada, (me)
hood did earlier today
underwent spiritual reawakening
experience, where poignant see
movie ling ushered
emotional concessions prithee
lee transcending, and super see
ding ordinary ho-hum
(oh so yesterday...)
psychologically (or psychically)
escalating euphoria juiced being
a humble papa
yes sir re:
vicariously afflicted when,
Shana Aubrey (said
nineteen year old pro genie),
(who lives under
auspices of mine
kid sister in
Bend, Oregon – Voluntarily)
painfully shared her recent
(first) beaming, blooming,
and budding romance
rendered null and void
primarily duet who wah
bajillion geographical miles
from Colchester, Great
Britain, where she
(mine offspring) under
parental care of thee
guardian (angels) Shari Todd,
and George Andrew Dunning
supreme qual lit tee
aunt and uncle respective lee)
spent propitious year,
whence har mo' knee
me lass struck up,
and young lad o' a louver she
discovered without visa vis,
where, the young chap (Zak)
broke off (figuratively smote) long
distance elle la gee.
Gnome hatter at my helpless state
hive hilt that being privy at any rate
which parental aye deed eek quate
with darling daughter as a mature primate.