Long Coconut Poems
Long Coconut Poems. Below are the most popular long Coconut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coconut poems by poem length and keyword.
Saturated with fish fry smells, Bar-B-Cue smoke,
rodeo dust and sounds of deep water blues,
with teasing frothing lace spread on the shore,
Gulf Coast birth breeze blew winds
in sails to Caribbean Sea, Blue Mountain
berries, banana walk yam hills,
And coconut rain drops tapping reggae beats
on zinc roof tops on cool verandah nights,
in herb scented air, curling roast breadfruit smoke.
The tarrying there tested the soul,
matured the spirit, fulfilled long tried
attainments of deferred dreams; then
the sea recruited its journeyman again.
Pacific Coast pleaded an adopted native son home. Home
to new sea shore sands dusted in smog self negation
of urbane destruction and self nullification of community,
caught in the veiled nightmare—lurking in the promise land.
Hence, lessons learned from a gospel tower that never knew a church,
yet gave life-lived sermons that put homiletics to shame, crucifying
pipe-dream pie-in-the-sky nuances on the crosses of realities.
Atlantic waves, undulating like rhythmic buttocks, frothed
a scent of magnetism greater than the tightening hold of gravity,
attracting an uneasy soul, searching spiritual solaced sands; only
to discover that the seas all share the same shored design: Yes.
Same shared sorrowful savage slave story! Different sea: same sand.
Now awaits Guinea Coast sunsets and Cape of Good Hope
cul-de-sac early morning sunrises; then on to the sands of heaven.
Regrets are for those who fail to chase their dreams to realities.
I love girl scout cookies!
Whew! I’m glad I got that off my chest.
Personally I think that trefoils and tagalongs are the best
I love the taste of shortbread and that peanut butter crunch BUT
in a pinch I’ll eat a thin mint…or that one with coconut.
And even though the increase in price sometimes makes me pause
I gladly hand over the money…
after all…it goes to a good cause.
This year they added a new flavor destined to make me fat
They put lemon glaze on the shortbread…OMG…Imagine that!
Each Lemon Up cookie has an intention…a mission
an ambition…a lofty goal
Each one is imprinted with a message
to be imprinted on my soul.
They tell me I’m a leader…I’m a risk taker
unlike the trefoil or tagalong…
that I’m an innovator
a go getter
they tell me I am strong…
Which is why when I took out my first lemon up
I was taken aback…appalled
When I read the message on my cookie
and it told me…I am bald.
“Although it’s true, what an odd message to put on a cookie.” I said to Deborah
She smiled and said, “Jim…you’re getting old
your cookie doesn’t say I am bald
your cookie says, I am bold.”
“Well that makes more sense.” I laughed
as I boldly ate my cookie…
every bite
hoping next year they’ll add one with carrots
to help improve my sight.
Soon
going to be a
Boom
rushing toward the Tsum
Soon
Zoom
running out of the
Room
you hear the big
Boom
Zoom
sweet, sweet Marmalade
voiceless beauty God has made
Modern-day Solomon faithful bride
Always by his rib side
And as other men drool
Jealous of them two
Boom
Move
You
Soon
she has lips like lemons hair gold
ruby-red caramel brown is her skin texture
breast like coconut centres with almonds
An Amazon Beauty
She has so much Intuit
When she walks into the room
The
Room
goes
Zoom
Boom
Boom
Boom
Marmalade sweeter than chocolate cake
Marmalade use to turn the hearts of men
gives him a toothache turn their bodies to stone
Never leaving them alone
Now she's married to Solomon
Impending
Doom
Running out of
Room
Seeing this
Soon
Zoom
3/27/70
Written words by James Edward Lee
Heavy summer
After the month of Rani i hold my mothers hand
I asked for a story she making me bore with my childhood which I had been listen
She then laughed and said I will tell your kids
We sat near a tree
We open our box it's full with some types of delicious taste suddenly I got to know their is not minerals of juices or water
Uhh Uhh we blame each other but whom to ask bangles of lu is out
Silence for while
I took a stone and hit the tree it's coconut under which we had picking
After so many try I found it's not so height so some how I climbed and trash bunch
When I looked down I shot maa how could I get down aasman sey gira nariyal paied par aatka? She said wait I will call someone
Janey kaab aaeygi?
With love all
MRI Jagdish Bajantri ETD
A confined territory with created identity from a spanish monarch
since established, its badge with monkey eating eagles, large shopping malls;
tropical fruits and coconut, dense population;
Conus glorianus and the python Reticulatus gets heavier.
Most defined Christian territory in its region
and a global production hub for nursing care and services.
This locality nurtures and perfects the services of text messaging
writing on the wall of global discoveries through the mouse deer
and other animal species most particular in the giant clams.
It suffers from the blunt blade of human trafficking
but this hasn’t stopped the continuous glow of its pride.
Ranging from the biggest pair of shows ever, to the manila event of 2006;
the discovery of an important antibiotic, or its global archipelago pride.
Its power presence shown in Jelly fish lake
or the Noche Buena, celebrated as the longest Christmas season.
All these green lights visible to the planet
never let its flag turn upside down again.
Supine she lies upon the sand
beads of perspiration finely dot
curvaceous golden brown form
carefree tresses spring, fly away hair
coconut oil lathers coquettish peaks
bared free, flesh innocent
she turns, languish sun kissed rays
fingers brush sand that lingers
covetously to her thighs
her eyes span the horizon
foamy froth surfs cobalt waves
the rhythmic sound of water
caresses the silky white sand
clouds float a vivid blue sky
she smiles exotic, delicious
perfection at the beach
divine goddess of sand
Statement: Snapshot of a young woman topless sunbaking on Bondi Beach 80s. Self aware, personal meets political. Simple poem, simple beach scene.
Entered in Your best poem that is trophy worthy Contest 4
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Written 08/09/2019
Hooting And A Chit, Chit, Chatter
Monkeys jumping from limb to limb
In the trees above
Leaves rattle as the limbs are
Bounced and pounced
While back on their route
A two-day trip to the family tree
“Ouch!” Muse said
With a splinter in his finger
All the monkeys stop to get a peek
One starts scratching another helps
They all start picking and eating
Fleas off each other’s back
Monkeys jumping from limb to limb
In the trees above
Leaves rattle as the limbs are
Bounced and pounced
While back on their route
A one-day trip to the family tree
“Oops! “ Muse said
Couldn’t quite reach the limb he flinched and fell to the ground
Like a coconut falling onto dry brittle leaves below
With a goose egg bump on the top of his head,
He opened his eyes to discover the sight of another
Monkey see, monkey do
Monkeys jumping from limb to limb
In the trees above
Leaves rattle as the limbs are
Bounced and pounced
While back on their route
To the family tree
Hooting and a chit, chit, chatter
They all came to a screeching halt
A river stands in their way
“Oh my, what are we to do?” One said
They all gathered by the bank
Intertwining their tails and legs with
Stretched out arms, making a monkey chain
With the best swimmer in the lead
Muse safely got them across
To the other side
Where their family tree resides
Hooting and a chit, chit, chatter
With the rest of the monkeys
Who were waiting to greet their guests
That were on a quest
© By Eve Roper 7/23/2015
From the lacy green coconut tree
I fell into monotony of the vapid sand
a golden quilt embraced my senses
under the majestic umbrella of pines.
still reminiscing the happy moments,
nestled in gentle swaying branches
where nests of weaving birds hanged.
still craving the comfort of an anchor
where a bedrock of trust cradled me,
I stay lost in shade of warm memories
But the vast deep blue beckoned...
freedom of sea... freedom of sky.
as stars and clouds steered me
in the new path of storm and wind
I paddle into my Aquarius adventure.
aimlessly I float paved by waves
island to island to unseen shores
a solitary moon my lone soulmate
a vagrant bristles in twists of fate.
weary wanderer in waters richochet
my rumbling ride to a horizon astray.
Will I ever find my archipelago?
a turquoise lagoon with dolphins to play
and a virgin cove where palm trees sway.
On the sand, coconut trees
dance in strong wind,
but sleep under soft breezes...
I imitate them the tone
and the times ...
I shake or calm down
in these impressive moments ...
I leave the coconut trees, and
now I look at the sea ...
The waves are coming
for my feet to kiss ...
They are messages that arrive ...
Messages touch me
and with them I write:
It is sweet to live al mare ...!
https://youtu.be/u6mH4vbYTVY
sugested song LA MER demis rousseau
Hear the shout of “SEA!” where ends the land
down Manzanilla way on windward shore -
on coconut road, on golden turtle sand
and follow a far trail of palms to its door.
Upon old plantation footprint I stood,
coco lillies and beach flowers I’ve smelled,
when beachcomber island castaway driftwood
my mother’s full and cradled arms held.
In seine nets from Cocal to Mayaro
villagers pull carite, wahoo, mackerel, and shark,
and dig for chip-chip and watch fireflies glow
as bright the pitch-oil lamps burn after dark.
Like leatherbacks in Grand Riviere I will return
before my oil and lamp do cease to burn,
when eerie is the billfish feeding ground
and missing are the pelicans stormbound.
Gaze out to sea upon blown rig and sail
in our fright’s strand on stormwatch to the south,
heed the mighty whirlwind, its scything trail -
Galleon’s Passage to the Serpent’s Mouth.
See the bended trees on coconut row
when lightning fork flashing turns night to day -
let it thunder, let it rage, let it blow
across river and swamp in Cocos Bay.
When jittery estate cattle away are led
and heron, egret, petrel, ibis, and frigate bird
take flight for cover when all else have fled
till a cockcrow at early dawn is heard.
Like leatherbacks in Grand Riviere I will return
before my oil and lamp do cease to burn,
when eerie is the billfish feeding ground
and missing are the pelicans stormbound
Written: July 1996