Long Drag in Poems
Long Drag in Poems. Below are the most popular long Drag in by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drag in poems by poem length and keyword.
Anyone who mountain bikes on a wilderness trail,
especially where wildlife predators are known to prevail,
are all performing a very unsafe and dangerous thing,
that could end fatally or seriously life threatening.
Wildlife preditors like bears have very poor vision,
so when they see a blur moving fast off in the distance,
it looks very similar to prey desperately running,
and that will trigger the bear's predatory instinct,
and at the very least will pursue the biker for investigation,
and if you happen to mountain bike fast past a mountain lion,..
.. well, place a house cat on the floor and drag in front of it a string.
The mountain lion will respond to the biker in the very same fashion.
When it comes to wilderness trails, your safest option is walking.
“A Cheeky Business”
Hot
Cross
Buns
You
smile when
She’s crazy mad
She’s
so
cheeky
all Her
bullets
are diamonds
She
makes you
laugh out loud
when you are
grey skies
sad
She's
a terrible
poet
kind of
cute
kind of
good
kind of
bad
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
“Look” / Sébastien Tellier
https://youtu.be/8jL0vy2YaDg
“Ours is essentially a tragic age,
so we refuse to take it tragically.
The cataclysm has happened,
we are among the ruins,
we start to build up new little habitats,
to have new little hopes.
It is rather hard work:
there is now no smooth road into the future:
but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles.
We’ve got to live,
no matter how many skies have fallen.”
D.H. Lawrence, Lady Chatterley's Lover
“When we get out of the glass bottles of our ego,
and when we escape like squirrels turning in the
cages of our personality
and get into the forests again,
we shall shiver with cold and fright
but things will happen to us
so that we don't know ourselves.
Cool, unlying life will rush in,
and passion will make our bodies taut with power,
we shall stamp our feet with new power
and old things will fall down,
we shall laugh, and institutions will curl up like
burnt paper.”
D.H. Lawrence
“Life and love are life and love,
a bunch of violets is a bunch of violets,
and to drag in the idea of a point
is to ruin everything.
Live and let live,
love and let love,
flower and fade,
and follow
the natural curve,
which flows on,
pointless.”
D.H. Lawrence
LYRICS/ "Look", Sebastien Tellier
https://genius.com/Sebastien-tellier-look-lyrics
Ideas bark and growl
One of them bites her
But still she persists
Punishing herself by not writing
Not painting
Not doing anything she likes to do
She deserves to be flogged, whipped, and beaten
She made a big mistake,
She is determined to ruin the rest of her life if necessary
Why don’t you write something? Another encourages her
He has no idea what she has done.
She withdraws into the small place inside her heart
Where she can drag in her soul and paint it an ugly gray
A hideous brown place with thorns and prickly pokey things
Her enemy has a name
But she is too angry to use it now
She is not human; she is a mistake.
Punishing herself gladly
Not giving herself one ounce of relief, hope or encouragement.
The soul sighs, remembering other times like this
Hoping this time will be different.
‘Alas ! My heart had to leave its treasures at sides of path of Life to end
at ‘ Death’. - Poet
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
All achievements turned obsolete.
Once seeds of confidence were sown.
Now strength of mind is deleted.
No time to rectify mistakes.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn
Burnt desires to fly in ash flakes.
Only despondency is shown.
In senile decay hope is blown.
Purposeless life to drag in vain.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
No bonding left, nothing to gain.
Case for my ‘LIFE ‘ is still pending -
My ‘TIME’ is up ! Court is adjourned.
Life to meet obvious ending.
In last phase decrepit heart to mourn.
What good is life worth living
If life you can't laugh at
All the ups and downs mixed with the ins and outs
Each time you're up to bat
If you find you can't take it standing up
Then try sitting down
Laughter adds spice to this salt of life
When its flavor is around
If you're new to this and need a good laugh
Try laughing at yourself
It'll give to you a new attitude
Which can only help
To erase the problems
Of the dreaded woe is me
Which causes a drag in the time that you have
So set the laughter free
Guaranteed to make your life worth living
Each time you're up to bat
Through the ins and outs mixed with the ups and downs
When you find something to laugh at
Bags upon bags upon piles within piles of bags
Yes, teachers are the ultimate bag-ladies.
Rarely but occasionally a bag-man steps into our midst
But here at the elementary school it is usually women
Who drag in carrying bag upon bag upon pile upon pile upon bag.
I meet them at the door sometimes to help them out
Relieving them of two or three of their six to sixteen bags.
Some are filled with granite and ice sculptures.
I always try not to choose those.
One of our teachers works at two schools.
She has chains sticking out of her purse.
The blue chain is our school. I know better than to unbalance her.
I meet her, grab the blue chain, and unlock her door when I see her.
She is carrying six “big gulp cups” – the thirty-two ounces.
I had to give up soda pop five years ago.
Too much flatulence, and the children are
all at the wrong level for that.
A lot said of Almighty’s modeling
Just a few minutes to lunchtime ding
Persons like thee make any evidence of such perish
You came out hot from a specific idea
From the horizon of my world
Your image burns like the Maghreb sun
As a mortal of black earth that was once green
I made special effort to collect my mouth after a grin
Which you planted scientifically upon me through a glance
Oh my poor scotched heart how will it ever decode
The messages you send from your bosom?
Upon the part of my lips
Your sweet name leaps
Straight into niche of memory
Gazetted for cauliflory
Creating a colony
There with live pixels
May the heavens bless your viability!
Your flower to be sweet upon maturity
And your virtues be multiplied as your pollen
My nose will never tire to drag in your perfume.
He is making a mud puddle.
Jumps in, squeals, delighted.
Hey! There is grass on my legs!
Sure is, I agree.
I’m DIRTY! Said in an accusatory way.
Yes, you are, I say.
He jumps in two more times, sloshing mud up his legs.
Looks at me. I smile.
His face turns serious.
He begins washing his legs with the slow cold water, coming from the hose.
It is cold! He announces, almost as if he is surprised.
Can you help me?
I help him drag in enough hose to get to the top of the slide.
He makes it into a water fall, and slides down fast, landing on his bottom with a thump.
The hose falls off, so I go over and show him how to keep it up there, using holes in the plastic.
He splashes himself in the eye right before his next slide.
Hey! I got water in my eye! Hey, guys, I got water in my EYE!
I look up.
He is over it, sliding again. Landing on his tummy this time.
After about forty minutes of this, he
releases the hose, and jumps onto the swing set which is about fifteen feet away from this slide.
Push me, Grandma!
I push him.
“HIGHER! High as the sky!”
I do as I am told.
“I am an astronaut, I am going into outer space!” he screams.
His mother arrives, and says “That’s pretty high.”
“I know,” I say. “But he’s at grandma’s house.”
He is invincible here.
The eagle arrives.
I point it out.
He names it Sweetie Grandma. Sunday heaven.
You can be a turtle, a deer, a buffalo, a dog, frog or a sphynx,
But you never know true love until you have fallen for a lynx.
I have a pair of them, and they adore me upside down and inside out.
They give me joy and companionship; they truly make me shout!
You may refer to them as bobcats, if you grew up seeing them this way.
No difference to Hansel and Gretel, they still hunt down their prey.
Their silent padded paws help them hunt with the best of the beast.
When they drag in their carnage, we have a wonderful meat feast!
They were found by me as babies after hunters got their mother.
They are happy with me, and even more happy with each other.
A brother and a sister, they like to prowl and hunt at night.
I sigh a relief when they come home, knowing they’re all right.
They can run fifty miles an hour, faster than most cars on our road.
I like watching them skedaddle, when they are in chase mode.
They like to curl at my feet and listen to stories, and sigh.
And no burglar has ever bothered me. Don’t you wonder why?
Maybe it's me
I just don't like the tempo
maybe it how I'm feeling
or is it just not
that simple
the harmony
put it in perspective
Maybe it's me
what's this songs
objective
try to be
have great intent
music dropping
crowd for concert
since
they want to sing
and party down
maybe it's me
the music is
so different now
remember when
people could really sing
the words meant so much
the joy songs did bring
maybe it's me
I just can't be inspired
they drag in the intro's
and by the time
of the verse
it makes me tired
I lose interest part
or midway
the wors don't make sense
what did that fellow say
why is she so happy
about end
where did this come from
how does it end
maybe it's me
who are you try'na inspire
the background lacks
sound
the forground doesn't inspire
the words are well
try'na get me to think
a reposition
that aint the right thing
rangey and groovey
a bassy tenor thing
the alto's want more
representation
attention to her
then she'll leave
a somble
sample spur
maybe it's me
shouldn't we just click our fingers
hum and muble
when the words
jumbles
and dissittters
likeit
like it
but let's improve
we want people dancing
we are not encouraging to move
maybe it me
or maybe it's you