Long Disks Poems
Long Disks Poems. Below are the most popular long Disks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Disks poems by poem length and keyword.
~Echoes of Yesterday~
Walking on the Boardwalk
on a hot, steamy, summer day.
In a two piece rose bathing suit,twas decades ago!
I was only seven and seeing the Atlantic,
for the very first time.
I loved the waves, oh !
I bought a dear bracelet that I still own.
With silver circular disks and sailboats in
each glistening so!
The salt water taffy was like manna from heaven.
To this French-braided young girl, only of seven.
Nobody dressed as oddballs or freaks I see today!
Not one person, a walking crayon nor a billboard
proudly,displaying a shirt with hate.
Kindness ,good manners, respect were forever in play.
And, tragically, I can't say the same for today.
So forgive me, if I truly don't understand this God hating,
negative, lost world.
My mind hungers for the once present sanity,
the love, the humanity and the lost sweetness.
Of a salt water taffy world.
June 30,2019
Noon PST
Another Gold
Far from profit’s crass allure,
At a place somewhat obscure,
A poet sweeps his shepherd’s lyre;
He sings of gold, of heaven’s fire.
No. not of gold that Midas stores
Behind fast-bolted treasury doors
But of gold, that, eve and dawn,
Touches sheaves of ripened corn.
More emeralds than all wealth can gain
Has to these eyes the verdant plain.
Without the mind all precious stones
Have lesser worth than dead men’s bones.
The original prompt for the last poem was one I wrote on being requested to resign from a computer company.
Far from profit’s crass allure
At a place somewhat obscure,
Gordon preaches now Cobol.
Fortran and, I believe, Algol,
Unto flocks of Gaelic birds,
Black-faced sheep and long-haired herds.
In Acton’s fleshpots, in his den,
The spotlight first is beamed on Ken.
Beware the luscious woman’s wiles
Or you’ll forget your disks and files.
It would clearly be a sin
To make no mention of dear Lin.
May married bliss attend thy way
And commensurate be thy pay.
Sandra’s performance sets the pace
Robin’s too a similar case.
His hunting prowess earns him fame
In matters that concern big game.
Flower power propels this happy throng
Which means that little can go wrong
As long as Rose your leader be.
May rays of fortune shine on thee
On yon high Olympic mountain
Where Gord and Mary have been scouting.
There beneath the royal wall
Our Ted flogs bangles on his stall.
My ditty now has reached its span
Remember me, the also-ran.
Golden Disks and Whale Clicks
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the surface
of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascade, scroll, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published: Eye to the Telescope 1/15/15
KERATIN is extracted from
cows hooves to make to
make foam for fire extinguishers.
............................................
They butchered the shank
to make disks
to serve with beef cheeks.
the wine sauce would be cooked
separate and and made of
wine
chicken feet
thyme
bay leaves
cayenne
carrots
garlic
onions
sun dried tomato's
3 anchovies
we would need
15 pounds of cheeks
20 pounds of shanks
6 pounds of chicken feet
( to make chicken stock)
the oniony, tender
meltingly beefy
goodness of meat
served with vegetables
and creamy mashed potatoes
ah- God
Mercy on these
people!
The make shift area would be chicken wire two sides
with sand and cement mixed with a cob material
and plastered
to create walls
with a tin overlapping roof.
Sunset over the mountains
fire brilliant shades of orange and red
lacing though the trees
colors disappearing..
....reappearing, with every
twist of the winding pass
each turn unveiling new colors
bolder, brighter than before
Sun's rays dedcending
radiant golden beams
caressing snow capped peaks
tickling aspen leaves until they shudder
bright gold disks sparkling, dancing
Hues darken, turning deep blue, purple
and black as night advances
orange and red fading as
they outline the softening peaks.
Late evening storm clouds roll
into the valley
flash of lightening, blinding
clap of thunder, rumbling
stars peer though the encroaching darkness
winking in merriment.
God's country,
Daddy's playground.
Note: Medicine Bow Mountain Range, over Cameron Pass, in the northern Colorado Rockies-
where my Father rests...
That wide open plan,
The desktop area so spacious,
A vast canvas so beautiful;
Why do you sit there,
Open to all for their curiosity?
When you to me call.
Oh cupboard, that hard disk brimming with identity,
Memory no problem, even lacking files;
Proficiently organised with raging delight,
Amorous filing system which you employ.
All disks are obvious, seen by me,
Begging to be viewed, added to or changed,
Offering usage stats and permissions,
That are not just the programmer’s privilege,
But any users' decree.
No LOGO, no dos,
No text-based system to beat,
No floppies to be distorted,
By the drives' magnetic wheels.
Encrypted files are offered,
But that requires some introspection,
About whether or not your loved one,
Would really infiltrate your disk,
And read your documents.
My computer is a reflection of me,
My order or my mayhem;
No longer my prowess and endeavour,
‘Cos my articulations are my graft,
Not the machine’s mechanisations.
Creativity oozed into the conversation
Knowing that an impression would be needed
to curve the conversation from music to
food. We wanted both the music gig and the
catering gig.
The guy loves catfish and scallops so she
Came up with a fused meal that could make
an impact. A blackened catfish and blackened scallop with a coconut shrimp and catfish mousse. The mousse would be baked separye with coconut cream and chili oil with ciatro and lime. Piped and baked and centered between both scallop and fish. Cutting disks from the fillets the scraps to be made into a mousse.
Stacked and served with a salad and vineggerette, . I heard the rehearsals and were impressed, our turn started with the fish dish.Wanting to serve an elk and melon dish for the seafearing. A horseradish and cheese poto side with asparagus and carrots. I called the dish " Ballet El Songo" the rhubarb and raspberry tartes dessert is meant to " clear the way for this tenor to sing".Wish us luck!
Ladies and gentlemen, we interrupt our program
of dance music to bring you a special bulletin
from the Mount Jennings Observatory, Chicago, Illinois.
I see a . . .
shhh...krrshh...fzzzt...
thing, directly in front of me,
half buried in a vast pit.
It's definitely not a meteor—
shhh...krrshh...tssss...
it's a huge cylinder.
Now there's a hissing sound. Like this:
hissss...hissss...kssshhh...fzzzt...hisss...
Something's happening, ladies and gentlemen.
This end of the thing is unscrewing...
shhh...krrshh...whummm...blurrr
Keep back, there!
Keep back, I tell you!
It's come from Mars!
Maybe there’s things in there trying to escape...
krrshh...shhh...fzzzt...blurr...
Wait a minute!
I see glowing holes—two luminous disks.
Maybe they're eyes?
It might be a face.
It might be . . .
shhh...krrshh...tssss...
Good heavens, things are wriggling out—
like great gray-black snakes.
Now there's another one, and another.
They look like tentacles to me.
There now, I can see the thing's body...
shhh...fzzzt...krrshh...
It's large—large as a bear—and
shiny, slick and glistening,
like it's just climbed from a swamp.
But that face, it's .. Hang on, that face...
krrshh...shhhh...tssss...
it's indescribable.
The eyes are black and gleaming like polished coal.
The mouth is Zee-shaped, with saliva dripping—
black, tarry stuff—from its
quivering lip-like things . . . or flaps.
Wait a moment...
fzzzt...shhh...krrshh...
There's spout-like tubes
poking out.
They're aimed at me...
Hang on . . . hang on . . .
krrshh...tssss...whineeeee...
They're firing at me!
Some kind of hot red ray—
They're hitting me!... I'm hit.. I'm hit...
I'm down! I'm down . . . I'm down . . .
SSSHHHH... KRRRSHHH... TSSSSSS...
ssshhh... krshh... tsss... hhhhss.......
Sorry Folks! We've lost contact with our reporter
We'll now return you to our dance music program.
Here we remain in bafflement,
The reasons for this firmament.
We rant and rave and offer prayer
but nothing seems to get us there.
We write bold texts and think we're done
And yet they don't explain the Sun,
The whirling disks that orbit space,
Or, reasons for our earthly place.
We think, we marvel, and eschew
Our best digests of "What" and "Who"
And "How" and "Where" and even "When"
But, then we come to one more "Then."
The biggest question of them all,
It's on this quest we rise and fall.
The one that underpins the rest -
It's "Why" that puts all to the test.
It overshadows all concerns,
And understanding will discern
The pathway to the Truth we seek
Of why we're here - no double speak.
Then comes the next subset of "Whys" -
Diverse divisions long devised;
The "false" discretions set in place:
Religion, ethnic space and race.
These "Whys" seem an experiment
Of how we deal with prospects met.
Should we accept things now in place?
Appreciate - no saving face?
Or, should we seek to overcome
The obstacles life has become;
To unify and thereby rest
Divisive human trials and tests?
Yes, "Whys" should keep us up at night
For they explain the "Wrongs" and "Rights"
Of our existence here on Earth;
Our Souls grip on eternal worth.
Yes, we can argue lesser quests -
The hows and whens and all the rest.
But "Whys" are what it's all about;
Both "old" and "new" - without a doubt.
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the
surface of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascades, scrolls, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published by Eye to the Telescope 2015