Long Circumnavigate Poems

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


Premium Member Flat Earth Ruminations

they can't slip one past me
intellectuals, smarty-pantses
I know what my eyes can see
it's ninth grade geometry
good thing pilots and sailors know 
the top of the earth is flat
I'm not sure about the bottom
where the roots hang through
on top, there's a hemisphere
that's where you see the sun and moon
why don't they bump?
only God knows
9th grade geometry works on a flat surface
Horace Greeley said it 
go west like Magellan
circumnavigate the world
you end up in the same place
you avoid the edge
where monsters be
you've gone in a wide circle
I live in the center of the world
and cut a smaller circle
only thing I haven't figured out 
what keeps the ocean water
from draining off the edge?


Premium Member Writing Is How I Connect

Indistinct, they circumnavigate in the raw ~ 
they’re thoughts unprocessed and unpolished
ethereal and feral, nothing more than impulses really 

If it were up to me, I might drown in that sea of ambiguity
and forego all communication with the outside world
forever content staying confined to my private universe

In most instances I couldn’t be bothered
yet at times I’d almost want to scream to be heard
that’s when I’d want to be as loud and clear as I could be

But sometimes the words refuse to form 
at times so deep they must be mined
and surface in their own time that can’t be rushed

So I write because it allows me to think at my own pace
I can capture what I feel, what I remember
I can seize it and can verbalize it 

I write for different reasons 

I write because most people
never ask what’s on my mind when the time’s right
or won’t wait for me to put my thoughts to words

I write because I want to say it right
I want to choose my words
not be misquoted

Mostly I write to capture time
time as a memory, time as a treasure
time as tangible, time as a toy to amuse

Mostly I write to be heard
I write so I can say I’ve done my part
I’ve said my bit and can’t be faulted for staying quiet

I write so I won’t die
without a voice, without saying my piece
without having said all I had to say                     



AP: 1st place 2022, Honorable Mention 2026

Premium Member Cowboys In the Badlands

Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.

West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.

Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.

In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.

Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?

Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.

In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.

"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.

written 17/09/2014

contest: Cowboys in the Badlands

sponsor Isaiah

And Ignoble Prize Trumpeting Hubris Awarded To

And ignoble prize trumpeting hubris awarded to...

Bourgeoisie donning ersatz
overstuffed ego freezer bewigged pate
"FAKE" grotesque humanitarian
bribed corrupt judges will vindicate
jimmied cracked corn
land of "milk and honey"

red hot button he spoils to activate
countdown to Armageddon
leaving nation prostrate,
all the more reason to axe electoral college,
now holds electorate
hostage to bully tactics grate

for dead souls – zombie thriller, viz
Putin on the ritz,
whereby Pavlov's dog will salivate
on cue and pony show will titillate,
and worse case scenario, a far more terrible fate
than death by a thousand cuts

equals his refusal not to abdicate
presidency, should voters
get smart to administrate
White House with progressive commander
in chief he/she will adjudicate
decency, honesty, integrity... and acclimate

government toward amity, comity, equality...
oh,... and most importantly advocate
salutary measures affecting biosphere,
where industrialization didst devastate
contaminate by bajillion beings birthrate,
every square inch of Earth

*****sapiens succeeded to abominate...,
prima facie global warming doth correlate,
hence primary requisite mandate
to reorient modus operandi no time to wait,
where carbon footprint negligible
still preserving technological paradigm

fixing low cussed electricity to generate
courtesy renewable resources
else man/womankind will become footnote
atrophied trappings agglomerate
twenty first century civilization
damned, inundated, ossified bridgegate

checkmated, choked, chucked... wag gone wheels
das spare - tread fully tires fuming primate
jammed fruits of loins going bananas
infuriating, exhausting accelerating
no exit (sorry Sartre) to circumnavigate
hardy lee any recourse to extricate

oneself from madding crowd
self resignation minimally doth alleviate,
whereby impatient broods frustrate
inaccessible jackknifed mobility,
thence spark ignites spontaneous eruption
impossible mission to plug
crowdsource mob frenzy translate

pent up fury once loosed doth degenerate
into atavistic pandemonium cutthroat rage
snarling human logjam foaming at mouth
poised to strike ready to decapitate
any remaining shred of salvation barren feeble
slow vac hoovering, milking, and sucking
every last vestige of bondage peoples extirpate.

My Little Feet

All of a sudden (upon
     immediately arising refreshed,
     whar these lovely
     bones did not ache
getting shut eye lasting
     amply time for
     fatigue to brake,
     long enough for tear ducts

     to generate sandy granule
     size piece smaller
     than a Jimmie
     sprinkled atop piece of cake
an inexplicable fanciful
     notion gripped me
     to circumnavigate the globe
(then during or after

     write a poem or journaled)
     possibly like Sir Francis Drake
who lived (circa?1540 –
     28 January 1596)
alight to adventure found
     yours truly though
     no longer tired
     i.e. once adequately

     rested and awake,
(despite sleeping respite
     did reckon asthma
     second daily nap
     no...no...no...,this not "FAKE)"
ah ran to the community room,
     cuz sigh did hanker for coffee,
     sans one of the (perky,

     finely grounded, Earthy)
     residents, who faintly resembled
     a (Lake Woebegone)
     Minnesotan from Land o Lake
did brew, filter, and invoke love
     said coffee she did make,
tubby extra sure boundless energy
would keep me alert for:
     long day's journey into night

and while walking briskly
(this took about a bajillion
     orbitz round the sun,
cuz ah...unfairly small feet
     for this opaque
     grown man hoop ping to partake
of sipping a hot cup of Joe,
     (despite the outside temperature

     feeling like a bajillion degrees -
     courtesy of global warming)
mouth (analogous to
     the dog of Pavlov)
     started to salivate

for desperate caffeinated
     thirst to slake
after a couple swallows...
     ah (no idea why butta)
     Zarathustra channeled
     thru me didst spake.


Escapism For the readers

Escapism – For the readers.

(A lone voice whispers)

Hey you,

Reading this
From way beyond the reach

Of the Great Abyss 

I, Thomas, have a question or two 

Would you blindly follow me if I lit a red candle

In this final odyssey home

To be rescued 
And finally bare your soul

Together with mine
And all you can handle

Before the Sacred Salt Pillar of Ado

Of Sodom and Gomorrah
Near the Dead Sea and atone

Would you follow me and that maybe life-changing suggestion

Willingly into this swirling dark

And grasp my coattails within this invocation and rhyme 

As we trespass tentatively through all of this life's scary parks

Just you and me
 
To somewhere only the courageous can ever conceive

As we strip off all the world's detritus 

That tries to smother us with all their rock slides 

And swim against all societies fast-flowing dividing tides

Will you dare tango and tiptoe past the ever watchful Tall Man and all his worldly Minions

As we circumnavigate the spiritual globe

To truly see the new world grid and reclaim our own freedom

To sit beside our newly created Holy River 
To write poetry and sing

To joyously watch through that river's undulating scrying mirror

As the real world slowly disappears

To then walk through a portal which I know will appear

Through all the luscious green grass to finally reach the portcullis gates to the 

Eternal City
Of Tartaria

To hear the greatest stories ever told to human ears
In any era 

To finally embrace a new realm free from all restrictions 

Laws or fears

For although we are but lost souls going eventually to try to conquer She'ol

Would you still just blindly follow me 

For you also
Seek Escapism

For you too are a true reader

Past the awakening powers of an immoral old fallen god

A new age world leader
And all its political forces

To walk unashamed together 
Hand in hand

To somewhere to renew
Hidden from view

Beyond this world, 
Many new pale white horses

(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member To the Unseen Beauty Still Beloved

Though I've yet to gaze on your unseen face,
     or hear the sound of your imagined voice,
a tryst with you is what I most embrace, 
     tho' circumstance leaves us without much choice.   
But ne'er discouraged, I form an image 
     (of you)—a sparkling vision of snow-white
and gold: you're etched in resplendent carriage,
     and luminous, blonde halo that's sun-bright. 
Moved and overjoyed by the thought of you,
     I'd circumnavigate both space and time  
to have you in my orbit and my view: 
     no greater love's for you but in my rhyme!
Therefore, beloved, we'll tarry just in this, 
that soon we'll realize our united bliss.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Don'T Sweat the Small Stuff

To be successful in this life of ours

We must be prepared to be in it for the long haul

Grab the brass ring and hang on for dear life

It's surely not for the weak of heart

It takes a lot of intestinal fortitude

To make it through, to be content, to be happy

A total commitment that no matter what obstacles are in our way

Our approach allows us to circumnavigate them

And enjoy life to the fullest

We only get to go around once so make the most of it

Listen to me... as if I'm some kind of expert on the subject

Throughout life, it's a learning process

Some of us never understand that and ever get it right

For those that do, the rewards are magnificent

We're very fortunate that life is so forgiving

Few of us ever get it right

To sum it up, don't sweat the small stuff


© Jack Ellison 2014
Form: Narrative

I Was Not Sure Where I Was Going Until I Got There

It seemed like a long almost endless trip,
one that could leisurely
circumnavigate the world,
or rocket through the years,
fuel never depleting.

There was never any plan,
just notions, impromptu journeys
into the unforeseen, and of course
unintended consequences.

Looking through the reverse end 
of the telescope of time,
each one act play
now seems ridiculously tragicomic.

Over one hundred arrivals later,
I got there.

Yesterday I bought new sneakers
they are not for going anywhere.

I aim to hang them up
at the foot of my old bed,
their mouths wide open
in amazement.

Premium Member By Means of Death

‘By means of death’ –
No softened course,
No path of cushioned ease,
No passage smooth
In gentle calm
Could circumnavigate
That destiny of death.

No other route lay open
To that future scene
Whose riches lay imprisoned
In an ancient promise
Far beyond
The reach and grasp
Of mortal men.

Long years
And generations endless
Passed in fragile hope
And frail anticipation
Of the coming day.
No eager wish,
Or strong desire,
No pious prayer,
Could gain fulfilment
Of its certain pledge.

To ease impatience
For Messiah’s dawn,
Some would at times
Invent their own Immanuel
And blindly see
A prince of earthly style
And purpose bold
To vanquish
Israel’s enemies of state.

Presumption thus
Interprets ill
The treasured promise
Of the heavenly King.
‘By means of death’ –
A course repugnant
To the tutored intellect
Of Israel’s scribes –
No less to sacrificial priests,
A path impossible
For their imagined Prophet-King.

At last He comes
At odds with human mind
And notions fair,
The Lamb of God,
To tread
The purposed path
To death –
The only means
To loose for men
Those promised riches
Of the eternal King.

‘By means of death!’
No other way.
The Giver comes
To give himself!
His life must forfeit be
To legalise that gift of life
And all his vast inheritance
Display to man.
And me!
‘By means of death’!

“He is the Mediator of the new covenant, by means of death." 
        Hebrews 9:15

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