Long Cone Poems
Long Cone Poems. Below are the most popular long Cone by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cone poems by poem length and keyword.
Wonderfully Enjoyable Right Now Is
A Sweet Scented Arrow To The Head
I Sit With A Strange Smile In A Dream
Yet I Do Not Seem To Know What It Means
The Overall Feeling Is Much More Soothing In A Cool Autumn Rain
I Indulge On A Butterscotch Dipped Ice Cream Cone
Thoughts And Memories Are Buried Along With Those I Have Long Since Lost
Wonderfully Therapeutic Right Now Is
A Sweet Scented Arrow To The Head
Perhaps The Well Intended Pain Will Help Me To Find My Brain That Currently Fails To Remain
When I Finally Find My Dusty Common Sense,
Perhaps We Can Reconnect In This Crazy Chapter Of Modern Times
However, When We Do, Please, For The Survival Of Me, Do Not Attempt To Remove
The Sweet Scented Arrow
Pinecone fallen from the trees
Tell me something if you please
From where you hung up in the air
Have you seen a woman fair?
I'm looking for her far and wide
To tell her I'll be by her side
And that my love does not depend
On anything she'd say or send
Regardless still in silent thought
My heart belongs to her, it's bought
And not by anything she did
But just because of who she is
Way up high from where you sat
Did you notice where she's at?
On your pods a bluebird sits
Was that her whom on you alit?
If she landed on your cone
You would know since she alone
Can cause a seed of love to sprout
It has in me without a doubt
Now if she does come back again
Who knows if, who knows when
But if indeed her you do see
Ask her if she'll wait for me
Flickering, glistening sounds of night
Your warm hand keeps mine protected from the frost
Stars twinkle above like the warmth of your heart
Our hearts have a view of the snow covered hillside
Candles flicker in the sky
We bask in warmth, two thinkers with their minds in an intuitive escape
Spiritual bubbles provide the fragrance of vanilla, our perfume of choice
White icing with vanilla flavor, a snow cone so tasty,
Hot chocolate, all the sweet flavors,
The garden of organic vegetables
For the time being, covered in snow, contrasting the warm body heat
Moving in and out of my mind, through the seasons of the year
I feel your spirit and pull you so close
A warm hug, the best I've ever known, truly heartfelt, here as we
Hike through the snow, in silence, hearts protected from the frost,
Ever growing, love bestowing.
A table filled with gross sample trays.
Surrounded by a poisonous craze.
Getting tired like a spider with claws.
Falling apart like howling and applause.
My emotions are one of those things.
Like underwater bee stings.
That shouldn’t exist in such an odd way.
It takes more than a siren to keep it at bay.
So sirens call out another time.
Then fall apart as if covered in slime.
My emotions are like a slingshot.
Or like rain in a bucket if it started turning hot.
The feelings captured by unknown laughter.
We have to decide after.
Leave the horror in the sink.
Or eat an ice rink.
In the end, I decided to poison my last bit of luck.
Tattered emotions like a hockey puck.
Innocuous craze.
And endless glaze.
My emotions could fall over like a jack-o-lantern.
Which feels unseasonable and worn.
My emotions are like a fly on a bone.
And this fly is like a sprinkle on an ice cream cone.
And a sprinkle could also be-
A penny on fire in a money tree.
Everlasting similar to-
A parasitic worm who lives life true.
Emotions are more than layers of spines.
We all have a crust that really shines.
Don’t try to peel the crust though-
Or something worse than tendons will start to show.
Emotions show up like that.
Rain bucket water, and boney baseball caps.
It’s summer time, let’s have some fun
on soft sands at Sanibel Beach
I’ll bask in warm rays from the sun
faraway from where waves can reach
Our children frolic in the sea
then beg for cooling ice cream
son drops his cone on top of me
it’s icy, I let out a scream!
We build sandcastles on damp sand
so tall they seem to touch the sky,
a boy wrecks them, with spade in hand
distraught son can’t understand why!
Summer Quatrain Poetry Contest Judged on 19th May 2019
Submitted to Writing Challenge 4, May 2019, No Placement Poetry Contest
sponsored by Dear Heart
5/15/19
It is indeed non coincidental, the Universe is Mental
Leased ideas, hopes and dreams
Housed a priceless High rise rental
Landlord of various residency sardine packed Ideas and hopes born from dreams
Leaving behind the rowdy neighborhood, overcrowded situation
For a change, a self prescribed Poetic Alchemy Vacation
Retreat away from the noisy fray
Under a Pine cone tree for my short stay
Pen and Paper Therapy.
Cloudy visions with half baked decisions
Careless youth, Carefree
Avoiding limits past the sky
Sabotage to self when in illusions rely
How can one conceive a manifestation not perceived?
How can one want more without Gratitude for what have been already received?
A single flame of a candle can brighten the path
to words scribed on paper, a dying art
Battles with Self, who is the enemy ?
Take a look at yourself in the mirror and you will see
Both Angel and Demon need to be fed
Which will you feed the most
Host of light or harbinger of doom and dread
Within chaotic turmoil order is a balanced a scale
Necessary momentum like winds to a sail
Creativity born of Pain is the Great work
Intercourse with pen and paper therapy
Watering a planted seed
Soothing balm to crowded mind
Where thoughts manifest the actual deed
The art of Poetic Alchemy.
Ice cream cones are meant to drip
But once you’ve got the knack,
You catch those drops on tongue or lip
To help preserve your snack.
At times the bottom of the cone
Might form a little hole,
Allowing an escape, unknown
When ice cream’s in a bowl.
So someone came up with a plan -
A paper cone-shaped coat
To overlay the cone, but man,
They’d never get my vote!
The paper's somehow always stuck;
It’s hard to peel away.
Thus, oftentimes, I’m out of luck
And there’s a price to pay.
I either toss the cone before
I’m finished or I might
Ingest some shreds of paper, more
Than I want in a bite!
"Mmmm..." she moaned as she could smell
The aromas in her dream.
This time, she'll be wined and dined
In the most exotic scene.
Just as the starter was served to them
A neon violet beam
Sucked them and their dinner up
To a place they'd never been.
They were suspended above the floor
Inside this neon hold.
Three aliens approached them.
They were lean, green and bald.
When they spoke they sounded like Daleks
"The male form has a logical mind.
If they refuse answer our questions
We will have to read his mind."
They analysed the plate of food.
"What is it you consume?"
Neither of them answered
And the silence filled the room.
"His mind says it's some sort of magic.
They call it Aph-ro-dis-i-ac."
So one of the aliens tried some, froze
And fell flat on his back!
"Is this what happens every time?
Is this a normal reaction?'
They nodded. 'Why do you eat it then?"
They held back the purpose of the action.
"The female is changing colour
She was white and now she's pink!
We must examine her mind too
To see what's wrong - what do you think?"
She quickly thought of a popular song
So that her thoughts would change their tune.
"It appears that music turns humans pink.
They're wired to the moon!"
The aliens glided away.
This pair heaved a sigh of relief.
He praised her quick thinking,
"That was truly beyond belief!"
ET waddled into view
With his heart and finger a-glow
"You're from Earth. I have a friend
Called Eliot! Did you know?"
They smiled and nodded and asked ET
To free them from the neon cone.
He did just so and made the offer
"ET phone home?"
By this point the alien could move again.
His pupils filled his eyes.
That stuff knocked him off his feet,
He was still dazed and surprised!
ET lowered the ship to earth
And they ran as fast as they could
In to the distance of their dream,
ET's voice echoing - "Be good!"
One of the chilling aspects of a hurricane is how, from hundreds of miles away, you get to watch it form…and all the time you have to think…
and prepare…
before the storm.
The storm forms in the ocean…somewhere way out to sea…
and your first hope is that you don’t end up in the cone of uncertainty.
But even when you do, when the predictions that the hurricane will hit you are strong…you keep praying…wishing…and hoping…that the weatherman is wrong.
You’re filled with mixed emotions…knowing the hurricane is going to devastate…
but not knowing when, exactly, or who…
knowing it’s going to land on someone…somewhere…
and praying that someone isn’t you.
As you prepare for what might happen…what that eventual hurricane might do…
It gives you time to reevaluate the things, in life, that are important to you.
Your first thoughts and calls and texts go out to friends and family…
You want them to know you’re thinking about them
and that they’re as safe as they can be.
Once you’ve secured your house as best you can…
and you know your children, grandchildren and friends are safe and warm…
you’re satisfied you’ve done all you can
to prepare…
before the storm.
Then you wait as the storm approaches…
content the love of your friends and family is strong….
and as you hold on to one another…
you keep hoping…
the weatherman is wrong.
It's so weird looking, and I've really grown to dislike it.
I remember as a child, how cool looking it was when it filled up with bath water
I would squeeze the skin around it together to completely hide it, it worked!
Growing up I've always had one of those Innie types
Unfortunately, these days my Innie has become an Outie
I guess my tummy being a bit ballooned, and my age, has something to do with that
I hate my new Outie; it pops out like a cherry on an ice cream cone
The only thing it really hurts is my feelings, it bothers me constantly
Geez, it looks like I've got a third nipple right smack in the middle of my tummy
Perhaps it's time for a diet, I want my Innie back!