Long Cool off Poems
Long Cool off Poems. Below are the most popular long Cool off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cool off poems by poem length and keyword.
Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
a hundred days like this
a sea of endless laughs rolling
like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic
Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!
Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
These sparrow serenaded mornings..
...morphing into something amphibious
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
splashing back to cool off in sandbars
coolers anchored in those cool waters
taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken
Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...
The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
squaks are replaced with crickets chirps
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!
Abridged Alaska along the freezing Arctic edge
lives the ivory Polar Bear, a vigorous carnivore.
They enjoy eating the tough walrus, beluga
whales and seals. They can sniff out a seal’s den
up to a mile away. They only hunt and eat prey
every four to five days at a time.
Polar Bears are marine mammals spending time
on the ice, with thicker fur than any other bear.
The have layers of black blubber keeping them warm,
because those frigid temperatures can be rough!
When the snowy days begin to swarm, there’s
nothing colder than that Artic atmosphere.
Their flat feet are like oars for swimming and can
swim up to two hundred miles from land. They
have been known to swim up to six miles per hour
at any given time.
When they’re born they only weigh about one
pound and approximately twelve inches in length.
One of the tiniest mammals on earth, so intriguing
yet hard to comprehend.
Adult Polar Bears can grow almost ten feet from
nose to tail and weigh up to one thousand seven
hundred pounds.
Females can produce up to five litters in a lifetime;
the lowest of any mammal alive.
Mating season is late March through May, but sadly,
not all the cubs born can survive the climate.
These lazy bears rest up to twenty hours a day
for strength, yet do not hibernate like other bear species.
Polar bears are kindhearted yet persevere to survive.
They cool off by rolling around in the snow or
taking a dip in frigid waters. These adoring creatures
have no natural enemies, and have a soft and
delightful temperament.
Except females taking care of their cubs, Polar Bears
are mostly solitary mammals, enjoying daily life
by themselves.
Their lifespan can reach up to twenty-five years,
but they are still on the endangered species list.
How can we save the Polar Bears?
Polar Bears would benefit from reductions of
greenhouse gas emissions. Helping to reduce
climate change would help immensely. There are
only about twenty-five thousand Polar Bears left
in the world today.
May we all take care of the environment to
ensure the quality and quantity of these beautiful
animals.
Polar Bears Contest
December 4, 2017
i'd allowed you in again even thou my soul
was shattered god was quite displeased as you
hammered your dark fist against my rib cage
senseless i thought an yet you were forgiven again
even more than the last time i'd carefully packed
garments birth certificates and social security cards
while dripping tears and blood onto the blank pages
of my new residence a safe place chanted across
the empty lines then availibility how many beds
as we poured into the entrance the sign read safe
you are not alone an yet i'd left everything i was
centered in a room of over fourteen other women
quiet timid angry how we failed at making a male
happy within his own skin how he'd torn into us all
it was like the same man had beaten us all an yet
i knew only you calm cool collective when the cops
came taking you around the corner to cool off
where was i here in america why i was all races
all religions an yet i was harmed while the worse
part of my abuse was returning to my abuser
how you emptied me into silence covered in tears
black and blue an yet i missed you washing the bruises
with soft soap our children were shattered as i explained
daddy was ill he was sick he worked very hard to care
for us if we were more quiet well behaved he would
respond to our energy and love us deeply as deep
as i allowed myself to be abused this was america
oppression depression family ties became wrath
as i whispered he know's not what he does
we are loved as i planned a new home among strangers
an yet they were me i was all of these women a safe place
sorjournal truth home the harbor light inn the st angeline
christian center chaplins office the salvation army
cornerstone community outreach shelter the springs
outreach where was home in america as i embraced
you served you were ill you would someday change
abuse would become softer cycles will be broken
but here in the in this space in this place
and in this time you became plural that's all
as i soon became very small why i soon became safe
One of the joys of summer are lightning bugs.Do you remember, as a child, chasing them on a balmy evening? They are so elusive. When you see one in front of you and go to catch it, it would be gone; only to blink just a foot or so away from you. Carefully we would put some in a jar with holes poked into the lid for air. Then we would watch them light up. Never leave them in the jar very long, or they will die.
Nature’s bounty is showing in the colorful blooming meadows.Grasses and wild flowers are a riot of color; there are Daisies, Yarrow, blue Chicory and black eyed Susans displaying their charms.It seems impossible to remember that the mere beginnings of all this abundance was only a few months ago.
July days are full and long. The water in the creek flows lazily, just like the cottony clouds that glide across the blue sky. Milkweeds, Honeysuckle and Hay scent the air. Hay has such an incomparable scent.It brings back visions of climbing up into the hayloft as a child. Playing in the hay, tunneling through it, finding “Daddy Long legs’” and the kittens that the barn cat hid there.
Blackberries are ripening in the berry patch For a time we did a lot of picking. We enjoyed many delicacies that we could prepare with them. Pies, cobblers, and cakes as well a s jams, juices and wine. Going to the berry patch was a welcome, relaxing activity after work. Most of the time it would be very hot there. Occasionally a snake would be sleeping on a branch nearby, causing me to move on slowly. I would stomp my feet, hoping they would move out of my way. Bugs and mosquitoes would buzz all around us.
Summertime is full of joy.The sounds of crickets and cicadas are the music of summer. There are baby animals., tottering around, growing up, discovering. Flowers gladden our hearts with their beauty. We swim in pools, ponds and creeks to cool off and refresh us. We can pick homegrown fruits and vegetables for our table.
And there is the toddler following a butterfly, calling: “Wait for me butterfly, come back here! You are going too fast!”
Plumpyflumpy was a sort of hippo/giraffe
Its rump was huge like a hippo
With a neck sooooooo long, that’s where the raffe bit was.
Plumpy loved to wallow in a muddy pool
oops I forgot to say that Plumpy was a young girl.
Sooo she had to wear a swimming costume when in the water
It was bright green with purple dots all over it,
made poor Plumpy look like a giant mushroom with a rash.
Did she care nooooo, she was free from lessons
free from chores that her Mam would find for her ,
off she waddled to the pool, excitement,
making her tummy rumble.
Down she plonked herself with a loud splash in the water
Plumpy closed her eyes in pleasure.
Suddenly a horrendous noise filled the air whewwwwwwwww it went
it was Plumpy her aching tummy full of gases,
slowly, getting released, the noise was like
an orchestra tuning up. whewwwwwwwwwww
So very loud, not very easy on the ears or nose.
Poor Plumpy, she just wanted to cool off.
Suddenly a bright idea was had by Rattycat
Why don’t we sing to mask the noise of Plumpy
So that’s what they did, they jumped into the water
Held hands in a circle and waited for the escaping gases to commence .
Wasn’t long and the noise of thunder started rumbling through the air
They looked at each other, started singing together
like a dawn chorus well sort of but not in tune.
Plumpy was so thankful to her friends
Come home for tea I made banana bread this morning
So off they skipped and jumped down the lane
Plumpy, Rattycat, Thumper (he didn’t go in the water] cos rabbits not keen and
Smellyskunk. Now he had a bad body smell loads of the time
so a dip in the water was like nectar to the gods, to his friends.
Last of all Chunky Monkey, he was doing his Tarzan act
going from tree to tree chanting
Banana Bread Banana Bread Banana Bread for me yeahhhh
What a lovely day it was for Plumpyflumpy
with wonderful understanding friends.
Penned 25 August 2015
I lay in bed last night thinking of
everything and nothing, as I often do.
For some reason or maybe for no reason,
I thought of playing on my slip-and-slide
when I was a little girl.
In Florida, summer lasts from April until October.
We were always looking for ways to cool off.
That memory led to another and another.
I remembered our neighborhood.
It came to life everyday with the sound of children's laughter.
Now, I often sit by my window hearing the silence of children
indoors playing video games. Safe behind locked doors.
Occasionally, the birds come out to play
or I hear a bull frog croak.
Squirrels run across our fence line searching for places to hide their treasures.
(The neighbor leaves out peanuts for them. The squirrels appreciate the gesture.)
When I was a little girl, I caught grasshoppers and lizards, but not frogs.
I didn't like frogs.
I thought of my succession of childhood bicycles.
I felt free as I zigzagged through the street
riding with the wind in my hair and the sun on my face.
I haven't felt that free in a long time.
In those days, I never felt lonely.
I could always find a friend to share a secret with
right outside my door.
Our parents never thought they would send us outside to play
and never see us again.
The neighborhood was our playground.
Until the day a young boy disappeared from a shopping mall
only ten miles from my childhood home.
He was kidnapped, killed and decapitated.
I was eleven years old. Our world changed.
On my playground, shadows lurked and everyone was a stranger.
I cried when I saw the picture of the little boy
with the baseball cap and toothless grin.
My brother was the same age as that little boy. He had nightmares for a while.
I was eleven years old. Our world changed.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for Debbie Guzzi's Fear contest
Second place finish
Hi JOSEPHINE, KAMUSTA KA NA?
SIGURO nagtataka ka kung bakit ako sumulat
PASENSYA NA, pero WAG KANG MAGTATANONG,
WAG NA, dahil magiging BULAG, PIPI at BINGI,
Lang ang damdamin ko sa paghinga,
AWIT NG PANGARAP na PANGARAP LANG
LIGAW tingin akong humahanga
Nang literal na nagkabanggaan
Nadaig ko pa ang JEEPNEY LOVE STORY
Parang PASKO SA PINAS nang ang pagtingin ko ay natali
I JUST CAN”T SAY kung ano na
Ang mga sumunod na pangyayari
CHINITO kong mga mata, sa’yo lamang nakatitig
PROMISE wala ng iba akong mahihiling
IKAW LANG TALAGA
PANIWALAAN MO crush na kita noon pa
Aking inaasam noon na AKIN KA NA
magkaHAWAK-KAMAY sa pagbuo ng TELESERYE na ALAALA
IKAW AT AKO lang wala ng iba
Pero kaya lang, sayang…
Napalitan ng sawi ang pagkahibang
Dahil KAHIT KONTI noon di mo man lang pinansin,
PAG-IBIG ko sa puso mo, napagog na sa kakaTIME-IN
AWAY BATI o COOL OFF, PILI KA LANG
Pero ‘DI NA GANUN, wag na lang
BAKIT NGA BA? IF YOU GO, PAG-AYAW MO NA at lumayo ka na
HAHANAPIN KITA… pagmamahal ko sana ang naging SANDATA
Pero wala ka na
WHAT ABOUT US? Wala na…
DI PA HULI ang lahat? Huling huli na…
BABAY, B.A.B.A.Y. na!, KAHAPON LAMANG ang saya-saya ko pa
And IF WE FALL IN LOVE sa isa’t isa sa ibang panahon
Hihilingin ko sa MESSIAH na sana tayo na lang sa maghapon
TAO LANG AKO, naiinlove, nasasaktan
Pero MAHIRAP TALAGANG MAGMAHAL NG SYOTA NG IBA,
EVEN IF meron ka ng iba,
Pag-ibig ko sayo ay hindi mawawala,
SALAMAT sa panahong tayo’y nagkasama
Sa nakaraan, Di na ko makakaTAKAS… Di na yata…
HABAMBUHAY kong dadalhin ang sakit
HIMIG NG PAG_IBIG sa ALAPAAP , sa TALA na lamang nakaukit,
Kaya SABIHIN MO NA ang gusto mong sabihin
Pero “mahal kita”
Salitang hindi ko na maaawit,
Nandito na lang ako MAGHIHINTAY,
Pero hindi na tayo magkakaLAPIT
dedicated...
to Josephine " YENG" Constantino
lml(- _ -)lml
Word Weapon
I let go of train of thought when I notice a person getting caught, and abused by another person in the form of cursing or some sort to have that person feel distort....and after that person is abused...and used to amuse...suicide becomes
their last resort....word weapons are such a discretion...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons...!!
Stop the words weapons that are being used more than machinery...
it gives people a reason to start swinging in a violent matter...after that
word weapon's egged on chit chatter....
I let go of train of thought when i notice a group of people circling another person...laughing...and giggling...pointing...and singling out one after another...
while he or she is crying...like a bullet hit deep...signs of that person's pride dieing...now rendered weak...unable to speak...misjudgement of character...like a book chapter missing....someone should say something but they act like they're not listening...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons....
Stop the Word Weapons....!!! Stop the reason for violent discretion...stop the judging...stop the pushing...and shoving...stop saying nothing...
let the abused's pride be rebuilt inside...let the weak speak....
let the shamed look up to the sky...let the quite unable to speak stop being shy...be strong instead of weak...laugh instead of cry....we all are people...we have feelings that are equal...no matter the color...let us listen to our mother when they have said...to treat others like we want to be treated...smile when being greeted...
cool off when you are heated...look with a smile instead of a frown...
'cause our father who art in heaven is looking down...wondering if we are lost...and can't be found...
United We Stand...Divided We Fall
By: Peter T. DeSpirito 8/12/2012
We have been roasting in the Sacramento Valley for the past 6 days with a temperature range from a low of 100 to a high of 107 degrees.*
We were not sure just when, but we knew the cool Delta Breeze would return. It was a hot 97 degrees today, and it's the beginning of a cooling trend.
We'll celebrate the cool-off tonight with a big barbecue out back. The barbecue grill is waiting and ready to go with a full tank of fuel,
and just in case there's a preference for charcoal grilling, it's also ready. We have hot dogs, burgers, ribs, steaks, boiled corn, and baked potatoes.
There are cold melons and an assortment of all kinds of fruits and veggies. Buns, bottled water, alcohol-free drinks, napkins, plates, utensils, and hunger.
The sun is setting, and the Delta Breeze has kicked in with all cylinders. Neighbors are beginning to smell the aroma and hoping for an invite.
07042018PoetrySoupContest, Summer Cooking, Kim Rodrigues *Not a specific event but based on real weather patterns
Hedwig
Her house, a memory lane of sacred spaces:
the cobwebbed attic travel trunks,
high heeled shoes, pink taffeta gowns,
skirts that open into spinning parasols,
cool musty wine cellars lined with dusty bulbs
and oak barrels,
that hay loft for hibernating tortoises,
a courtyard of bursting wine caskets
that clutch Oleanders, Angel Trumpets,
palms and roses,
the outhouse under a giant mulberry
staining visitors fuscia red,
a library of leather-bound, five-pound encyclopedias,
and the bucolic world of firefly adventures.
In the grand silence of hundred-year-old oak trees
and the coo-coo-roos of pigeon chit-chat,
with a tin can in my hand,
I skedaddle to a spigot for cool off and fill up.
We snip the dead-heads off Hydrengea, Dhalia
and Sweet William at a baby’s grave,
to spur new blossoms
as we douse the thirsty mound.
Her dentures in a glass of water,
the hum-whistle-wisp of her tunes
fades in and out as she busies about,
with twisted digits brandished like radish knuckles,
and feather-light fuzzy hair floating about.
I taste paper-thin cuts of a salty sausage,
her hand-stretched strudel dough,
rolled with poppy and apple, cooling on terrazzo floors,
whipped egg whites and yolks that sweeten afternoons,
a mulberry syrup soda fizz tickles my nose,
Bouillon de fairne of onion, garlic and bacon fat,
her stock of soups with mile-long noodles,
steamed dumplings with jam, butter and powdered sugar.
Waste-not, what-not, want-not, never-ever-have-not.
My throat constricts for days
as summer in her wonderland ends.
After long goodbyes, tears waterfall, erupting
for three hundred kilometers.
She is the ordinary made unforgettable,
the builder of a scaffold to my heart.
This is how I carry you, grandmother.