Long Comparison Poems
Long Comparison Poems. Below are the most popular long Comparison by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comparison poems by poem length and keyword.
Today we visited the Farmer’s market in Ballard.
It was a beautiful sight to see…
Booths that stretched for two whole blocks….managed by people of all diversities…
On our way to the Farmer’s market…
(I love when we discover surprises out of our control)
we happened upon one of Thomas Dambo’s six Northwestern trolls.
We also visited the Ballard Locks…
where we could actually see
the wonder of their engineering…a testament to ingenuity.
I’d love to say these are the reasons we went to Ballard..
for as terrific as that would be….
the truth is we heard Ballard has a Danish Bakery.
The troll, the Farmer’s Market, and the locks were amazing
we truly loved all of these….
but…they paled in comparison…to a danish filled with cheese.
Another highlight of our day…as our trip to Seattle comes to an end
was having lunch with Alison…a dear old high school friend.
One of the things I love about visiting an old friend…
is the smile that stirs within your heart
when you realize how a friendship can endure
no matter how long you’ve been apart.
The time it took to eat our lunch….
like all time, unfortunately, flew by in a breeze….
but lunch with an old friend brought even more joy
than a danish filled with cheese.
Which brings me to what I love about these last 3 days in Washington:
After all we’ve seen and done…I know
from now on we’ll be taking a little bit of Seattle with us…
wherever we may go.
The world is divided, divided in two and there’s really nothing one man can do. There are the good and the evil, the pure and the not, close in comparison to ice and red hot. I sped up my rhythm on behalf of this rhyme and I felt the importance of keeping this mine. I made this a story for sake of that oath and I was required by my conscience to rename them both. The world is divided, divided in two and there’s really nothing one man can do. There are Heroes and Zeroes, they all look the same, one way to look at it, it’s like an old game.
The world is divided, cut in two and there’s no way of telling who is really who. There are Heroes and Zeroes, they all look the same, you can’t tell by guessing or just knowing their name. Zeroes justify their greed and their bad, make sure you remember the things you once had. They will steal all your dreams, take all your gold and laugh at you afterwards because you should have known. It is borderline criminal, it’s a little insane but it is not the sole reason that I gave them their name. They have zero compassion, zero remorse and zero pity for those off course. They cause the world sorrow, they add to its pain, they do all of the killings and earned every bit of their name. The world is divided, split in two and there is really nothing anyone can do. There are Heroes and Zeroes, they all seem the same, one way to think of it, it’s kind of a game.
The world is divided, torn in two but there has to be something a good man can do. There are Heroes and Zeroes, they all look a same, it’s hard to imagine it’s only a game. Heroes won’t give up, they will never give in, they will stay by your side and insist that you to win. They force you to smile, cause you to grin and somehow get the whole planet to spin. The world is divided, it is cut in half and it’s hard to know who you are looking at. There are Heroes and Zeroes, they might seem the same but don't ever tell me it’s some sort of game.
Butterflies are a magical magnificent wonder of our world's skies
In many ways they are not dissimilar to us coming in all different colours categories configurations and size.
Butterflies can't see their own wings they never know their outer beauty or no how truly beautiful they are
But everyone else can see them and can admire their breathtaking beauty a comparison not too far
To our human nature
Such a delicacy and in the same instance there fluttering features so delicate
Fragile to the core yet they dance with such fierce verocity truly supereminent,
No fear as they dart from side to side busy fulfilling their fluttering butterfly duties,
Such pure souls can't stay here for too long 15 to 29 days for these beauties,
Is this why they flutter by so quickly gliding with urgency through the skies
Because there is so much to do and such little time to do it before their demise.
I wonder if they contemplate their destined fate
Not taking a single second for granted keeping them constantly fluttering by their due date.
Sounds splendid not knowing how disgustingly dazzling you truly are,
Not having that self conscious hang up based on appearance would be bizarre
You simply exist with heavenly peace, mental tranquility sounds like beautiful bliss.
Spending days fluttering amongst floral incenses the aroma a sweet treat
Birds soar high above bouncing from branch to branch of the tall trees as they tweet
Nature's colour palette is so bright from the dainty petals of the wandering wildflowers
As I dash from flower to flower full of pure joyful glee fluttering tumbling swooping and soaring
I could dance for hours with other insects like a buzzy bumbling bee
I'm a beautiful butterfly you see, now you can see me in all my beauty and glory,
And it doesn't really bother me I'm content not seeing my wings they are there so I can fly mainly
So I'm as content as can be, just being a beautiful butterfly fluttering away as I pass thee.
“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you, pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Treasured moments, spent shopping with Mama,
Buying school clothes, notebooks, pens - such drama,
All the little things that invite autumn dreams I conceive,
Little things – vibrant leaves and shadows of make believe,
Remembering the times I wore my heart on my sleeve.
Embracing friendships, going to school is a child’s gripe,
Season of pleasantness, songs so gentle, autumn’s ripe
Southern grace, falling quiet across the country, entrancing
Breathing hope into the silence, while winds play – dancing
Inviting my soul to waltz – swirling, swaying, chancing.
Hesitant words fall like pebbles, a gravely mix of knowing
Delicious harvest – apples, grapes, all the wonderful flowing,
Exhilarating as the chestnuts baking, the cider warming,
Pumpkin spice, cinnamon delights, falling leaves, transforming,
rustling in the brisk breeze, abiding, life storming,
Beneath the music of mellow heartbeats, conforming.
While the summer reaches quietly – it’s all in God’s hands
Flinging beach trips and breathless colors of pastel sands,
Autumn bleeds her gentling through my spirit, anew,
Singing of a lingering honesty, the feelings so alive, so true,
Whispering – it’s finally time, back to school…. How summer flew!
comparison is a pickpocket plucking joy from my handbag
I have been compared to countless things and things
that cannot be counted, or counted on
mostly fair assessments of character
only a handful of assassinations
I have been an assassin.
accused of killing
minutes carelessly turning earth, looking
for words to say the unnumbered and the unnamed
it is ineffable and I effing hate it like a hangnail
I cannot quit picking at the quick
then dousing it in ethyl alcohol, or the other kind
sometimes when I'm bleeding out from the ripped skin
I watch it dribble down my guilty fingers into the sink
with dried bits of fluoride still clinging
hard drips that won't rinse
there is never enough blood to fill the basin
never enough origin in your story to cover the drips
so I settle my savagery and rinse my hands of it
letting myself enliven at the sight of my innocent, open palms
instead of crying over a little gore, creating more horror
The faces of parents revealed not a worry; not a care.
Kids walked alone, not for tricks, but for treats.
No child was worried about the candy eats.
All that mattered was that the candy was sweet.
And always with respect, the kids did greet.
Before I proceed further, I must hasten to
tell you that this night was unlike any other.
It was one uneasy and scary Halloween;
One with a different kind of scariness.
There were no razors or pins to be found in the candy.
Nor were there any deadly or toxic cookies.
There was a girl dressed like a queen.
Every policeman on the streets was a rookie.
No weird dresses or funny faces on anyone.
And there was a boy dressed like a king.
By comparison, every Halloween prior was a nightmare.
None were dressed in black. No super surprises.
Every child was accounted for, and none was missing.
Not one parent was found weeping in sadness;
But scores of parents were crying for pure joy.
No one was deceived, nor was anyone bereaved.
By comparison to every prior Halloween, this was a dream.
For children and parents everywhere, a night like this was due.
This Halloween was scary because it was too good to be true.
101222PS
However life is to begin
We shall start to find things to do
Older to semblance that a dream
Did we age to become more a fool?
Cautious and careful... those menial trials
Meaningless yet necessary... perhaps not?
Hidden agendas inevitably kept in vials
Secreted to never again spare a thought
And we do things as deem
A need if not for yourself but the rest of the world
Is there that logic for things done to mean?
Yet a vortex we remain within... simply to swirl
We have to keep things going
Whence subjects we became since birth
Ways of this world to find me laughing
Given a comparison to millions... am I worth?
Of life to only begin
Need we find things to do?
Younger if only to dream
How did I become a fool?
I am house shopping
with the required Buyer's Agent,
also a fairly tolerant friend of mine.
She likes to drive
although not gifted with any sense of direction,
until we hurriedly arrive,
then she beelines into the ubiquitously requisite lock box
as if by smell.
Meanwhile
I visit current occupants,
the trees first and foremost,
then bushes
flowers,
occasionally, to my grateful surprise,
an entire garden,
or even just one vegetable,
a tomato plant,
a humble gang of shaded herbs.
I ask them how it is here
in their home.
I like to taste their soil
for signs of pregnancy
but who knows what contaminants
might fester here.
And my real estate agent,
although a friend,
finds it unseemly
for me to put my mouth around
what I probably won't buy.
She, too soon,
coaxes me away from my greet and meets
with shade-givers
and grasses,
the edible and ornamental neighbors
of the "big house,"
to explore the darkness of plumbing
and electrical systems,
attics and basements,
kitchens and bathrooms...
Her list of boring things to look at
and too often smell
in a bad way
feels endless
in comparison to too brief introductions
outside,
speaking with,
listening for,
hoping and faithing and loving with
any signs of life
among these large majority of property historians,
co-investors,
cooperative care-givers and receivers.
Eventually,
it becomes our time to aimlessly wander around
in search of yet another lock box
on our life For Sale list.
I say goodbye to the trees
and shrubs,
my occasional edible
and more popular ornamental hosts,
far too soon
to ever learn
if they would choose me
or not
to become with them.
I feel like I do
on election nights
when winners and losers are announced
by statistical projection
before votes are actually counted
from all us co-investors;
and long before registered voters
have listened to trees
still standing in our yards,
on our farms,
in our fertile forests,
to learn their quieter discernment
of which candidates produce more healthy cooperative outcomes
and which more toxic competitions
within these diversities
of Earth's wealthy nature.
I cannot die tonight
Like the quiet corners of my mind
I dog-eared a book
Of pages i haven’t read
You know how long that took?
Frayed and yellowed
Always get me calm and mellowed
The spine cracked and worn
Each page a promise
Their adventures unfold
I cannot die today
Coz my lipstick’s too pretty
“Forbidden Love” in matte
By Pat McGrath
It gives me a nice pout
That send you in a frenzy
My face pales in comparison
I put it on as a subtle defiance,
As I navigate through the urgency,
A moment of personal reliance.
I cannot die today,
I am too busy
Scrolling on Etsy
Whatever calls my fancy
I will not have time
To stop, breathing
I cannot die today
I already planned my party
At the Acre
Who’s going to blow the candles?
Half-eaten Carvel cake
Half-baked excuses
Dancing under moonlit trees
Laughter echoing in the breeze
Living each moment like the last
There is leftover Ben and Jerry’s,
Pistachio, my sweet delight,
It would be frostbitten, forgotten
Without me to savor its creamy bite.
In the quiet of the midnight hour
Amidst the chaos I must attend
A spoonful of comfort, a moment’s respite,
With each creamy scoop, worries mend.
For even in the urgency of saving lives,
There’s solace in this simple pleasure
A taste of normalcy amidst the storm
A reminder of life’s delicate measure.
Unraveling stories from the past
I cannot die today
There are lives I have to save
People I have to see
But I can’t save me
Keeping Still
The fire has burned low my love.
I dare not move to fix it.
You have fallen asleep against my chest.
I feel you breathing.
I hear air, moving… in and out…
as you slumber.
Your hair is a wave of brown,
like a warm blanket,
the only comparison,
a treasure my grandmother,
would have made by hand.
You smell of the earth.
The trees and the outside,
have come inside with you.
We hiked all morning,
and now…
they are a pleasant memory,
swaying my senses
as I sit holding you close,
in my arms.
The fire has burned low my love.
I dare not move to fix it.