Long Cruises Poems
Long Cruises Poems. Below are the most popular long Cruises by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cruises poems by poem length and keyword.
My love is what love is to me!
Placing his hand on the small of my back,
wishing me through the door first,
no, that is not what love means to me!
Buying me flowers or writing me a sonnet,
blah, could that be any more cliched,
no, that is not what love is!
Love is waking up on a weekend morn,
Coffee steaming in front of my eyes,
He got up first to prepare my drink,
that is what love is to me!
He collected the kids without giving it a second thought,
though his day is hectic and he really cannot spare the time,
that is love for me and I am thrilled he is mine!
Wine in the moonlight, that is for romantics,
Cruises on the Med, for the sea lovers,
my love laughs with me and cries in front of me without shame,
talking about nothing sometimes late into the night
and other times talking seriously,
that is what love is for me!
Love for me, is the man going grey with me and enjoying the ride,
it is meandering this crazy world holding tightly to my hand.
Being always my one and only, my man.
He has stayed when he had every reason to go,
He has cried with me as we have watched our children grow,
He made a promise and stuck to his vow
and though the storms they came and limits they were reached,
the vow he made, his commitment, his choice to stay.
He's love it was that saved the day.
Romance is important, flowers are too,
but his rugged, messy, crazy love is all I need
and makes him, what love is for me
Form:
He’s the Politician’s politician
Amazing all with the ease
He cruises through public life
Somehow avoiding all the sleaze.
It seems he’s Teflon coated
Pulling all the dirty tricks
Yet when it comes to blame
No accusation ever sticks.
Loud voiced and abusive
He slides easily through life
And only a naïve fool would
Trust him anywhere near his wife.
With his quick release zipper
And his foul arrogant way
He’s your modern party leader
Reflecting the morals of today.
He’s the maker of the rules
But thinks it rather absurd
Few realise they’re not for him
But just for the common herd.
So, all stand to attention
And wave your Union Flags
While he behind the scenes
Fills his bulging money bags.
It’s the public double standards
He supposedly really hates
While not far behind the scene he
Shovels cash out to his mates.
He’s the Politician’s politician
Whose luck never seems to fail
When in any just society he’d
Be languishing long term in jail.
Written: June 10, 2024, For Eve Roper Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1/ The eldest son of a family immigrated to the United States.
2/ I'm a bibliophile. I deem myself artistic, empathetic, and spiritual.
3/ I have one son, two daughters, and seven grandchildren.
4/ -I am an advocate for the aesthetic value of one's natural surroundings, spouse, offspring, and grandchildren.
-Dancing flowers, the sound of azure waters on the shore, and the sight of cascades crashing against coral cliffs.
5/ Devote myself to the principles of generosity and tolerance for all.
6/ Handling disrespect and inequity is a chore I'm wary of.
7/ I love traveling globally, especially on cruises, and learning about cultures, traditions, art forms, and history.
8/I am a resident of San Jose, a vibrant city in California.
9/My last name - Sotto.
*****
What a joy it is to hear my kid's laughter return.
Dancing and bustling around me, I long to churn.
The sight of vacant seats at meals makes me grieve.
Unless, when there are happy events to heave!
A legendary dark, so thick,
A corrosive smog to my young eyes that itched,
My kid-glove skin crawled like the parasitic tick,
It felt as though my whole system glitched.
A welcome into the dark cave,
Exhilarating walk from the womb, a step into the mystery,
Where shadows of truth barely behave,
The haste of rolling days writes the history.
A love missed; he was lost in a drunken haze,
And vanished in the phase, moments before I could show,
Double pain left a lifelong graze,
Tattooed on my heart but made me grow.
Into the enigma of unburied hatchet,
A tale of betrayal, the knife in the back.
By his own blood, sealed in casket,
They drank from pain and fed on lack.
Destroying his foundation was their thin little win,
But even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while,
That wade through the swamp was brutal and grim,
But through the murky sky, the dimly dawn cruises easily.
...early Spring walk around 3.2mi. Lake Calhoun...so named after controversial industrialist sotten with checkered past...movement underway to return name to Native American Dakota "Bde Maka Ska" White Earth Lake.
Purple Finches trill their soothing song
to people walking around Lake Bde Maka Ska,
a deep glacial lake in the heart of Minneapolis.
A lone Eagle cruises above, easily snatching
spawning Carp from the shallows, gracefully
cruising away, talons firmly clutching the
writhing Carp.
I enjoy watching families enjoying their first
walk around the lake, infants in strollers taking in their first inhalations of sights, sounds and
smells after winter isolation.
Young people wander wide-eyed, wondering
how the world sees them, as they establish
identity through dress, movement & interaction
with others...subtle changes will occur as the
summer evolves...reacting or not, to perceived
reflection.
Most of all, I enjoy my own movement,
evaluating subtle changes I notice in myself,
returning to the park bench by the path where
I comfortably situated my 87yr. old Mom,
grateful to have the opportunity to once more
enjoy our city of lakes, wondering how many
more such gifts she will enjoy,
Grateful
for
the
moment
5/7/17
I do bitterly fault your restless digits, slatternly time;
Your agile dial's design I defy with mutinous rhyme.
What's the veiled intent of your lightning procession,
Against this snail-mover's beleaguered progression?
In swearing truth say why your sight-eclipsing wings
Party and feast and conjure merry over littler beings.
What sadistic banquets in spooky nooks yonder,
Turn your lot-dwindling schemes ever so fonder?
It's true your snaring turns I strongly loathe,
With damning sneers and deserving derision.
What's that blot against heaven's sternest troth,
Obliterating dancing suns on her creasing face?
To what main gain do your life-slicing edges fly,
Usurping innocent freedoms of humble breath?
Your mulish cruises along snaky course-ways,
Flare spite-perfected ills to slay slowing health.
With daring tropes I’ll yet trim hours’ blacking crime,
And I’ll chide the deadly glooms of carnivorous time.
Our sizzling temperatures
like the month of August
on our skyline above the clouds
Swimming with the pigs
dolphins, sharks and stingrays
in our crystal seas
Sunday strolls
on our gorgeous sand banks
and surprising boiling holes
Extravagant boat cruises
to Rose Island
and Blue Lagoon Island
Shaking up to Rake and Scrape
and Goombay music
in our streets
Feeding the taste
of Goombay Punch
and Sky Juice
on our tongues
The sensation
of tropical conch salad
and coconut tarts
filling up our guts
Listening to folk tales
from Bookie and Rabbie
eating flour cakes
and ring playing
on our Out Island playgrounds
It's about taking one day at a time
Feel the air, summertime or wintertime
Righteousness and heavenly glory
not in humiliation, shame or orgies
Cruises to the Caribbean are not my choice
in harmony with nature all will rejoice
For a believer, there is nothing that disturbs
God's word is true because the promises keep their word
Lovely sanctuary with sweeping sea views
a wonderful delight and beautiful blues
Human thoughts and words about spiritual wandering
Let's encourage each other, the time has come for pondering
20/08/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Sanctuary Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
3rd place in the contest
The Blackpool donkeys have given up,
they have boarded jumbo jets
as emotional support animals.
Once they used to plod between
the Blackpool piers
half a mile up, half a mile back,
day after day,
carrying whooping kids and adults
as they heavily jogged along;
fat thighs clapping sore ribs.
In a dulled daydream the donkeys moved
with downcast eyes,
backs spavined from gleeful bums and knees.
When they could carry no more -
they were trucked away
to be neglected unto death.
Now the donkeys,
when not flying business class,
surfboard in Hawaii,
their Bermuda shorts billow
as if tailored for four-legs.
Those that once rode them
on that uncultured English beach,
now take river cruises
to the more refined European cities
never wishing to see a donkey,
but if they should come across one
I hope that for a moment
they feel a knobby spine
again bruising those broad buttocks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
https://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/news/abused-donkeys-not-licensed-work-blackpools-beaches-572591
An array of lush peach roses
To tickle a night of sweet cruises
I'm sending them some miles away
So she can gush at their display
Ribbons sashay on rare bunches
An array of lush peach roses
For dear aunt whose warmth I share
Through storm or sun she always cares
Florets changing tints of colors
Like moods spiked with fragrant flavors
An array of of lush peach roses
Each petal claims aunt's smooth graces
And all love’s wonder she'll explore
A thrilled wish the stars can’t ignore
Go, ride on birthday that rouses
With baskets of lush peach roses
Brian Strand's Contest