Long Contraptions Poems
Long Contraptions Poems. Below are the most popular long Contraptions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Contraptions poems by poem length and keyword.
Hendecasyllabic Alliterative Pseudo-rhyming Abecedarian
Artfully arranging all attestations
Breathlessly bringing bright beautifications
Carefully constructing clever contraptions
Daringly, dauntingly delving deductions
Eagerly, easily ending extractions
Fancifully forming flirtatious factions
Gustily grasping gigantic gradations
Hazily having harsh hallucinations
Instantly inking imagined infractions
Jarringly journaling jacked judications
Kindly knuckling known keratinizations
Lightheartedly launching lame litigations
Misguidedly making mean machinations
Noticeably needing noninterventions
Obnoxiously outing odd operations
Pensively perusing past permutations
Questioning queerly quixotic quotations
Relentlessly razing rare restorations
Sneeringly slinging snarky salutations
Thoughtfully triggering true transformations
Unduly uttering Ute ululations
Vibrantly voicing verve versifications
Willingly working warm winterizations
Xenophobes x-ing xenotransplantations
Youthfully yearning yak yarnifications,
Zany, zesty zebra zombifications
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Hendecasyllabic (11 syllable lines), alliterative Abecedarian employing pseudo-rhyming
Yarnification ought to be the process of making yarn or tall tales :-)
The soul’s quest is long and reaches deep
into the etheric abyss.
One cannot find God with machines;
God is within.
In the soul of the universe,
in planets; all life contains a piece of the
“God Particle”.
A fool searches with ego driven machines,
accelerating collisions will never
pinpoint Gods location.
Shuttles and ships will never take man,
to the heart of his creator.
Souls connection needs no space craft or contraptions.
No one needs to search for what exists inside.
Each atom, molecule, cell contains God-essence.
Those of wisdom and faith,
touch God each second, of every day.
No search is needed to find, the God within one’s self.
Within lies God, without lies ignorance.
Ignorance destroys what God creates;
wastes universes of life.
When all mortals embrace whom they really are inside;
the utopia of Eden will return.
It’s genesis will birth a new Heaven; a new Shambhala.
A world was created where every individual believed that being represented
was essential as religions require symbols
to be interpreted by the ordained,
meaning of things provided for us like fertilizer on furrowed fields,
law & tax codes, medical knowledge, emotional expressions governed by consensus,
a democracy of dellusions,
dissent is dangerous and humility heroic,
where surrender preserves and patriotism perverts,
clowns kings and criminals having wings,
Medeval Christianity mastered markmanship of community authority seizing
the sugar of inventive intuition,
terrorizing the truth of personal experience,
thrones were tailored temptations, temples entrapments of greater mystery,
cathedrals collossal contraptions for centralizing consciousness, books burned,
jewels for fools & the fooled manackled to the alter of passivity,
masses being timid tools concentrating their energies on empire expansion,
exiled from ego,
crusades to crush criticism, a monopoly of memory
and torture the text of theocracy,
Cathars killed for lessons become occult,
unlawful cognizance of God within,
authority addicts abandoning their oaths to protect people,
subjects countrymen become,
being pledges & collateral for debts incurred for imperial improvidence,
babies of the masses transformed into bankers' bounty via certificates,
maturing securities on malignant markets of merchantile magic,
digital slave trade,
self governance gainsaid as being a primitive pathology,
a symptom of paranoia or maybe xenophobia,
personally voting on taxation, education and wars apostacy,
J.A.B.
When you sort decades of electric cables from that box hidden away
It reminds of disentangling neurons haphazardly fired at random
It’s a beautiful day and you’re in it among sea saw and hammer
Hundreds of screws in the tool box and all you want is a single unbent nail
Somewhere hidden under plucky wall plugs and skewed rusty hinges
If life gives you lemons a power drill defeats convention
Nuts bananas and bolts mislaid in the fridge with washers and powder
Reveal the essence of an organized mind squished in the blender
Bedlam chaos fragmentation or glorious harmony
Synapses jumping like fleas on the mindful grey patched neuronal carpet
Heavily worn by August the Clown because a well led life is a circus
Knowledge pushed into action potentially in a meaningful way
Buttons in the haberdashery basket cased in creativity’s mad insanity
Knotted threads from life-long preservation of patchwork and passion
Enmeshed a few screws yet again and a bubble gum wrapper
And that hammer once more testing reflexes deflected patella and callus
A pendulum for more esoteric days and a Tarot card next to the cross
Saved for a rainy day of prayer and the coronation of dreams
After decade long quest a screw is still a screw whether loosened or nailed
The sander of unfinished living grinds on to an egg timer’s analogue fashion
And who an earth would prefer finding a rivet to crafting a poem
One possible morale of the story is that hardware plies softly myriads of magic
That in the wider scheme of things there are enough contraptions in the case
And once they start giggling and straying Pandora is happy
17th April 2019
I waited too long
to mow my lawn
biopsy my lung
yet lived long enough, anon,
however long is long.
Whatever. It's not wrong
to count along
while busy living. Sing
and stay strong
absorb the sun's photons
and store them in your bones.
Those bones
outlast slights and spurns
are white as lightning and strong
as sticks and stones.
Inside is one's
spirit, soul, the nameless one
the one that's never known.
It has no cell phone
can't communicate or even moan.
Therefore. Why complain?
Have some fun.
Soon
I'll be undone
subterranean
my garden burned down.
So what. John Donne
died and so did Milton.
Emerson too, and Whitman.
Get over it. Vote. Love. When
the train comes in the station
whistle with it, wish on
stars with passion
or careful hesitation.
Anything's fine, within reason.
Season by season
things get done.
Algebra and calculus, Malcolm X, George Washington.
No taxation
without representation.
A gun
in every den.
People will be governed
one way or another, by a sovereign
or trusted friend. Corporation.
Men
are more disposed to suffer, while Evils are sufferable, than
to right themselves by abolishing the Evils to which they are resigned.
I'm too young
to die! I cry. My generation
cannot outrun the sun
but I want to see what happens
next, a tsunami or tornado, rain
and wind beyond our comprehension
hit in the head by speeding debris, irony
of ironies! plastic contraptions,
rotting computers and yogurt cups, pain
in the baby! Moment's
notice. None,
I notice, live long
enough to see the end. Amen. A million
years hence
human sense
has so modified and mutated among
other moons
we share one mind
and everything's remembered by everyone.
Look it up. There is no death, just perfect rest. A perfect tan
is possible, and work is fun.
I'm going there when I pass on
because souls will travel at warp speeds, using nuclear fission.
About suffering, religion
was right (and wrong) all along.
Exercising belief about unknowns.
Makes sense to take your best guess.
Using history, numbers, extrapolation.
Getting the trajectory right for re-entry.
Few dissenters left for climate change, evolution.
Nuclear power brings a process to earth
that occurs only in space. Dangerous
but necessary? Not a risk-averse weasel.
One among many mammals is the weasel,
not known for its consideration of unknowns
but, for its extreme caloric needs, considered dangerous.
My wife says in England violent gusts
forced a locomotive off its tracks. One interpretation
might reasonably be that the mother, earth,
has stopped mothering man. We're entering
a period of unknowns and must evolve.
What might this involve
and what adjustments are possibly feasible?
Walking rather than riding to the subway entrance,
using less electricity until more is known,
preserving agricultural soils and forest land,
buying fewer plastic contraptions.
My brother's washing his pajamas less often.
None of this may make the slightest difference
in how the earth and the sun and universe revolve.
But we are human and addicted to action,
the probable less attractive than the possible.
Also, there's no percentage in respecting death
unless it's imminent. Better to remain centered,
focused on food, child-bearing, war and the poem.
All driveways plowed, all lawns mowed.
Just in time before the first snow, I raked our leaves.
Two eight hour days. What percent of all time is that?
Draw a ray with point A the first pile of leaves
extending to the extrapolating end of universe.
.01 of Aaron. Zero of Zach.
Hawks playing, hunting, mating, canaries in the mine.
Having been too many places to count.
Sex bars, infant formulas, fire crews, last rites, permanent jobs, traffic
tickets, judges' chambers, out houses, wedding banquets, boiling
teapots, frantic centuries, facial tissues, presumed innocent, clear
intentions, stainless steel.
Spiderweb glove. Deerfly earring. Daddylonglegs seeingeyedog.
Memorized songs. Privatized loans.
You cannot know what you're doing until you've done it.
Erudite sweep the floor. Articulate make the bed.
Infrared town hall. Crab nebula. Your last crap.
Eye of the tropical January sun. Slouching toward temperate zone.
Trial and Terror
Tim had tried most everything else
waiting hoping procrastinating
meditation introspection ‘extro-neglection’
defence contraptions of all sorts and the
whole self-help spirit enclave palaver and yet
he still felt like a cadaver a rotting ‘thing’ of the past
The Universe seemed far away above
a flat earth and an ancient canopy
beyond clouds of neglected wisdom
He tried a catapult built a durable frame
attached a spring cantilever for his heavy
payload and ‘bingo’ off he went flying
‘This is it how foolish I have been not to
see the stars for the comets and thunder’
The sky was the limitless limit fast on the rise
Soon he approached heaven and reveled
in a wondrous tarpaulin embracing for shelter
well that’s what he thought as misery continued
It turned out to be a trampoline suspended
upside down or downside up a matter of mat
bouncing him back to where he had come from
‘They’ had not spoken of a yo-yo in the manual
another promise unfulfilled but at least he was
moving bouncing back and forth ‘til he crashed
Maybe he concluded ‘I’m in the right place
in my time and confusion after all for now’
It was time to reshuffle the motionless cards
Tarot told him that the Hermit needs to be there
for a purpose and the Hanged Man is only a metaphor
for outliving what was and a sign for quieting change
He dug a (w)hole in the frozen ground cemented
his feeble foundation and from that a buried base
put earth onto earth and constructed a causeway
notification of fire evacuation
slated to occur
April 12th, 2018 (between the hours
of 9:00 am and 12 pm) did spur
me to validate Google asper,
that direct object heave ving,
pro noun sub bull, verb bose,
ingenious American historical figure
attired in tailored clothes
careful sans his just keen
liberal mien pro
claiming necessity to doze
when body politik
didst need restorative source
analogous to drained battery expose
zing lack of electricity
mechanisms need did tubby supplied
(in one direction) flows
accorded stealing thunder and lightening
from Zeus where prominence glows
vis a vis via leaving
his tell tale fingerprints
upon flame inextinguishable hose
imprimatur of renown Founding Father,
a one man gifted born
improved quality of life
during Colonial American stage
buttressing forlorn
during his deux score and four years
fledgling United States heed add horn
bequeathing blueprints
(functional contraptions,
posthumous patents procured
after populace did mourn
gadgets kickstarting leveraging more novel
Ongepatshket prescience,
quietly revolutionary,
strikingly timesaving),
utilitarian value shorn
tattered stitched timeless totemic tenets torn
unimagined visionary watershed worn,
where underworld webbed wide world burned
with thermal coupling that churned
ferocious infernos
describing how Hades learned
tubby managed
to maximize efficiency
zealousness zeroed Zyder Zee
in said Netherlands
and hellish hot house turned
into a near utopia (More
or less nsync) with Doubting Thomas's,
where many mortals yearned
to escape corrupt fat cats, sans
those condemned to mortality
found minimally a mew
zing, and doggedly trudged 10,000 leagues
under the sea, entombing
jewels for vernacular speaking Josephine shew
wing scars from fire
that threatened Philadelphians thorough
lee hence, forcing many civilians
to dive vining Davy Jones's locker pre view
in 1736 after swallowing embalming fluid
ha I did "FAKE" you
tubal heave poetic pablum from human zoo!
Mohonk Mountain House is a rapturous place
where we love to visit and walk the long trails;
partake in its charming Victorian grace.
A mystical ambiance- there still prevails.
A manor-like hotel for overnight guests,
we managed to sleep there a Saturday night.
The hallways were long, and at once did suggest
past visions we'd seen which left us with much fright.
Contraptions, wall-mounted, held hoses wound up
with nozzles at end placed to put out a fire.
So much like a movie, we'd seen where setup
did look much the same and so dreadfully dire.
That night, we awoke with some noises we heard
that sounded as though they were right in our room.
A voice giggling loudly- now this was absurd,
as women-like shadows quick-heightened our gloom.
We managed to sleep, but woke up- from a dream?
Fire hoses were chasing us down the long hall!
The nozzles were faces with teeth, made us scream!
They smothered and bit us in that horrid brawl.
Next morning we saw, on the desk, a brochure,
a story which made our hair stand up on end,
that Stephen King frequented Mohonk- proved sure,
ghosts helped shape 'The Shining'- that horror he penned!
Science fiction writers formulate countless stories of trips to the stars.
Telling us about adventures to planets like Venus and Mars.
All their tales take us into a future time and place.
In each of them, courageous pioneers venture into space.
Riding inside their contraptions, they send us to places that are new.
Wandering into the far reaches beyond our sky of blue.
Advancing into worlds very much different from our own.
Yeoman tasks from raw unmitigated courage are grown.
Tomorrow’s space travel is quite enlightening.
Often at times, it can also be frightening.
They may encounter alien beings with greater intelligence.
However, our pioneers may meet those with hideous appearance.
Either way, we advance our knowledge of the universe with experience.
Striving constantly to push the knowledge of our universe.
Taking on challenges of great proportions for better or worse.
All rise to deal with the hardships that may arise.
Roving into strange territories of infinite size.
Seeing for the first time with their very own eyes.
Robert Pettit for Linda-Marie’s “Stairway to the Stars” acrostic challenge