Long Displace Poems

Long Displace Poems. Below are the most popular long Displace by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Displace poems by poem length and keyword.


Thong Thing Is Wrong

Thong Thing Is Wrong

Thong thing is wrong 
Cellulite women rolled on folds of flesh 
Over waves and seas that crest 
What are those monstrosities  
Whales washed up on beaches

Thin strings not quite bikinis hide nothing 
Obese creatures covered by mounds of pounds
Blot out the sun uncomfortably
As the fat eat Twinkies, dream of being Twiggy

Oh Doris please don't put on weight
Put on your tent.  Save us from nightmares in the day

Tides move when you step in the water 
Displace the natural order  
Fish run from you.  Forget how to swim
Naked can be scary by the sea                 
 
What is that giant thing standing in the sand
Dressed in almost nothing, held together by a string
What waddles down the shore
Thinking a black cloth makes one thin

Oh this fashion does not make for happy
Dreams and illusions bury the thighs in lies
Under the sun filling up horizons sky

Surprise!  Eyes bleed at this frightening sight
Makes old and young cry.  No place to hide

Ocean sojourns once were fun
Watching bikini clad women run
Nudity is meant for others more young
Eye candy, shapely, sexy and thin to begin with


Weight escaping on all sides exposed   
Pretending to be pretty and thin is quite the trick
Girls come in all shapes and sizes
Some have been known to raise the tides 
In disguise, hiding behind a smile exposes it
The thong thing is wrong
Please make it stop.  Make it quit


Premium Member Age Disparaged

"The body, like the oak, is bent and gnarled,
The shallow-rooted mind is overthrown,
When we are near the evening of the world."
---From, 'Runes for an Old Believer", by Rolfe Humphries

Facebook post: "Respect your elders!"

My mind may not be now
as nimble as once it was,
and although I might see all
with jaundiced sight, not fresh,
not new, my mood is mostly
cool and quite calm.

           --- Until, that is,
some brash provocateur 
begins to essay an attack, 
thinking to erase the marks 
my words have made and to 
overwrite them with his own.

I care not very much that he 
with logic may displace my niche, 
nor cleverly might mock me.  
But to disparage Age in dotage, 
with vile invectives, is doltish, 
brutish and dumbfounding.

My sweetest comfort is
to have no doubt that he
(nor others of his ilk) will
never see how ineffectual 
must be this mild complaint.

Lord, I Believe But

 dramatic verse 

LORD, your mission I long to fulfill.  
I know at times I hinder Your grace.     
BELIEVE, You plead. -- I believe until
HELP is put on hold and doubts displace
THOU, God, the one Master of my will
MY deepest need is strength to erase
UNBELIEF -- to wait patiently still.

I need you Savior, LORD, my Surety,
counting it joy when I profess You are mine.
So when I fail to BELIEVE deplorably,
questioning your HELP, asking for signs, 
O how very great THOU art, I sing to thee.
In your presence, MY faith I refine
and break off UNBELIEF, infidelity.

Jesus Christ, my unchanging LORD
totally pardons me I know.  Once I
made my  original  choice to BELIEVE,
He’s always been nearby to HELP.
Reprove me, O Holy Spirit,  THOU
can remove what I do not need-- MY
self-seeking pride, alas my UNBELIEF.

written 8/16/2014

inspired by:Mark 9:23-24,  (when Christ healed the boy of demonic spirits)
23 Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.   24 And straightway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears,  Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.

Premium Member Gerrymandering

Gather the maps, divide the lines with care,
Every decade brings new charts to trace,
Remember how the shifting votes displace,
Right to select who governs, free and fair.

Yet borders twist, reform beyond compare,
Moving in silence, shaping every place.
At times, it seems a never-ending race,
New rules decide which voices have to bear.

Districts are carved to strengthen or to break,
Elections bend beneath the subtle hand.
Rare is the claim of justice clear and bright,

In corridors where shadows often wake,
Not by the will of people do they stand,
Gaming the seats, they steal away our right.
Form: Acrostic

Conflicting Societal Mixed Messages 1

This sole jeering, albeit grace
full soulful foo fighting - base
sic primate approaching - at a pace
faster than prefer 
     hubble even lace
sing electric shoes to 
     evade senescence - aging case
closed, asper near

     ring finish line,
     nope, no exit, 
     (not even with Jean-Paul
     Charles Aymard
     Sartre) to displace
non negotiable fact
     of life and death,
     a blink'n, wink', n 

    nod in sacred space
time continuum,
     quaffing unforeseen
     adventures extant 
     within Alsace Lorraine
regarding germane 
     human league race,
whether master fully baiting,

    goo goo dolls,
Barbie included, who enviably
retained hourglass figure
     hood never display trace
of aging, always beast
towed with fields a twitter with 
     my little “chickadee” face,
nor akin to me, 

     when solitary lad
     didst pretend (imaginary)
     beastie boy played chase,
while girls made believe to
     no longer remain chaste,
viz primitive rued
     amen tree snapchat,
     shutterfly, and instagram

     future memories glommed
     courtesy once upon
     time this "mama's boy"
     only brother, now ace
sip ping his herbal
     elixir night cap suffusing
     warm glow to face,
this while count

     ting black crows
     nsync forever 
    longing to kiss with
     heart felt being brace
sing against unrequited love
     succumbing to gravity,
     and unable to erase
ravages of aging

     (YIKES) completing
     last two plus months
     regarding LIX 
     orbitz riding roughshod
     thru ethereal aerospace
recalling early boyhood snippets

no idea why, when taking a
    mister bubble 
    bath with siblings,
an elder and younger
sister nonetheless!


Premium Member i do not climb the ladder

the ladder is metallic 
a shiny gun metal blue
light weight and telescopic

14ft tall or nearest the sod
as high or as low as i like it
i will displace myself upon it

i can lean it where and when 
i need it, it's light and portable
ascending or descending on its antislip pedals 

i do not climb the ladder

the ladder feels cold or hot
it teeters and is stead fast
my footing is lifted on it

i can mount it high
or as low as it will go
step down on it and heavenward again

the ladder makes a clatter
it clanks a rhythmic sound
three six nine rungs at a time

keeping a tempo on its firm board
one button retraction with multi positions
on this ladder i see all possible horizons

i do not climb the ladder

a practice in perspective
a soaring dismount while clutching the handrails
cascades and escalades

out of the forest, above the trees
the ladder is a step stool platform 
extendable or collapsible

i do not climb the ladder

come to me what i do not want
drop on ascend, raise the fall
do it with confidence and poise

the ladder is unpredictable
it suggests a cautious advance 
leading to somewhere never gone before 

the ladder makes authenticity blossom
taking all devices in stride
it neither confines nor defines

i do not climb the ladder

Autumn Woolgathering

i draw a lingering breath,
what is that I hear?
as I contemplate this year,
the coming of death.

“Thirty days hath September”
the leaves chant in brown
autumn arrives, falling down.
And we remember…

our own breakdowns once again -
chills we don't address.
Short of sevenfold success -
winter will bring pain.

Unlike the diligent ant
we grasshoppers rest
in hopes that God will have blessed
striving - scarce and scant

On winter's close arrival
God counts to seven
virtues borne out in heaven,
for man's survival.

Starting with humility;
second, he lists truth.
Murder he counts as uncouth
use civility.

Peace and harmony displace
evil’s bent to fight
Do what’s honest and upright
grant your kin God’s grace.

To fall's woolgath'ring resign,
celebrate wise thoughts.
Begin to connect the dots
of winter’s design.

September 30, 2019

envelope rhyme
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member Capturing Moments

Yesterday at a restaurant with family…during our talking, laughing…eating
one again I realized how every moment’s fleeting.

A story is told, we laugh but that story’s laughter does not last
because another story takes its place and it slips into the past.

So when a moment surfaces…before the next one arrives to displace it
I try to let that moment surround me and quietly embrace it.

Basically when I am seated with friends and family near
I try to capture as many moments as I can before they disappear.

Which moments to capture are subjective…they’re for each one of us to define.
They could occur while looking at a menu…or ordering some wine.

When our nephew tells us of his travels or about the tennis he has played
or when his wife relives her marching in the Macy’s Day parade.

When our niece talks about turning 50…when her daughter shares her fears..
Or when her other daughter tells a story…only for our family’s ears.

(I will not give away her story…but here’s a little peek
It had to do with something that landed on her cheek)

Or the moment we celebrated my birthday early and I noticed a gleam in every eye
as they sang happy birthday to me…while I stuffed my face with pie.

When following Deborah and the crew as around town they golf carted…
or in the tenderness of the hugs when everyone departed.

These are just a few moments I captured recently
at a dinner in a restaurant...surrounded by family.

I know these moments are fleeting….that they have a small life span
which is why I like to stop….and catch them when I can.

Because once I capture a moment…I can store it in my memory
where a moment that once was fleeting…can last an eternity.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Premium Member Presence

Deep fragment
Moment to see;
Haiku mystery


Here within time
A timeless moment;
See with new sight


So much happens
If I but see;
Experience the light


Pathway on wet grass
Morning walkabout;
Wayside flowers greet


Sunlight sparkles
Violet flowers bow;
Warm blessing given


Old village house
Wooden stilts aged;
History presides


My old grandma
Fuzzy grandpa;
Visit my dreams smiling


Years have flown
Time does not stand still;
Deja Vu feelings flood


By wet market stalls
Food vendors await;
Hungry customers prowl


Weary world winds down
Sunset escapade;
Sleepy eyelids flutter


Bedtime stories
Not just for kids;
Unfinished business


I sit here content
Alone with thoughts;
Evening wind calls my name


I feel a touch
A presence here;
A lovely loitering


When times feel heavy
Purge the bitter taste;
Let sweetness displace


Words aligned
Experience lodged;
Carefree heart rejoices


Know with certainty
Nature's deeper mystery;
Cicadas repeat


Dark night hovers
Fireflies in the woods;
Electric buzzing


Haiku or senryu
It's up to you;
Glimpse the fragment


Words on electrons
Ideas in a surge;
Exploits experience



Leon Enriquez
29 July 2014
Singapore
art
Form: Haiku

Echoes in the Dark

My chest holds echoes none can hear,
A hush of thoughts that won’t appear.
What once was warm now drifts like mist,
A weight unseen, too dense to lift.

Each fracture blooms a quieter scar,
Where bitter seeds still grow afar.
No shore, no flame, no sense of tide—
Just vacant halls I roam inside.

By day I wear a borrowed face,
By night I vanish into space.
Thorns have grown where roses laid,
And joy, like wind, has slipped away.

I feel the pull to slip below,
To whisper what I’ll never show.
My voice is dust; it meets no ear—
A silent scream no one can hear.

You shimmer still within my dusk,
A faded gleam in memory’s husk.
I dream we speak as once we did—
Before the cold began to bid.

No bitterness could take your place;
You linger deep, a shadow’s grace.
But where you stood, now hollow lies—
A soul grown thin beneath the skies.

One truth remains, untouched by time:
A trace of you, forever mine.
A tether neither blade nor night
Could sever from this ghostly light.

Am I undone, or just concealed?
A mask of calm, a truth unsealed.
Not hate, nor wrath, I seek to wield—
Just peace in ground that’s never healed.

The tales of joy and sorrow, pain and grace,
Are etched within the lines upon the face.
The laughter lingering in a quiet space,
The love that time can never displace.

Now rest descends like stars in velvet skies,
A peaceful calm that soothes the weary mind.
The soul prepares to lift and softly rise,
Leaving the weight of years behind.

A long life’s journey finds its final spark—
The whispered echo, soft in the dark.
Form: Elegy

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