Long Dry run Poems
Long Dry run Poems. Below are the most popular long Dry run by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dry run poems by poem length and keyword.
Before we implode or reach cluster one
What do you want from me, as you humans dry run
We are Poles apart in what you and I do
Marooned you will be, if you don't turn to be true
I am only but a sphere, but your wearing the inside out
Our futures lost for words as we enter life's drought
There is time for dialogue to take it back
Will it be a great day for freedom, or will we enter our black
Around the table of powers we have to keep talking
We had high hopes when we stooped, we may cease to stop walking
It beggars belief that we are heading into strife
Maybe one day we'll acknowledge, that were coming back to life
Take a pot, heat it hot.
Scratch it dry.
Scrape up any brown, dry left-over bits.
Check the sides as well.
Sniff the seance of conjured smells.
Imbibe the well-up of wafting aromas.
OK, now, dry-run done, you've begun.
Note: To cook this soup, make your own stuff up,
nothing packaged, tinned, frozen, dried or jarred, please.
For concoctions make less happenstance.
All the come-up essence is drained, abstained.
Add 3, 6 or 9 cups of hot chicken stock to the hot pot,
not cold, lest it splatter and scatter.
Add any amount of any kind of vegetables you like,
Color, crunch, bite and texture is what you're after.
Crinkle-cut the veggies in hotchpotch of shapes and sizes.
Make triangles, squares, diamonds, heart and tears.
Heaven-forbid not slices, dices, cubes or julienne spears.
Simmer briskly and brusquely.
Stir to get the veggies spinning and swirling,
prancing like steeds and mares on merry-go round,
up and down, round and round,
all the colors and shapes,
promenading around on show.
Next, season liberally and decidedly,
with salt, chillies and pepper.
Then, add a cacophony crescendo of herbs and spices.
Don't hold back, go on, let it go and all hang out.
Make your taste buds stand-up and take notice,
Add heaps of umami, to your bouquet garni of herbs.
Simmer revealed, fully naked, with the lid off,
until all is tender and nice done.
Serve in bowls, hot and steamy,
with shredded and torn
mere mortal, morsels
of crusty bread.
On the outskirts
of a line comprised
of two landscapes;
The distinction
is lost on how you've
managed to captivate me.
Afar, my pupils study
you several times over;
succeeded by dry run
thoughts yearning
to be verbalized.
Words escape me
walking on tiptoes,
holding on the possibility
that if heard, they
stumble not to the fore
of inexistence. Due to
clocks power, a measure
of petite conversations formulate
in between. My aroused pupils
correlate with yours...(SIGH) Your
soul accompanied by the brown sand you're comprised of
is indeed...
Exquisite.
Pace, G INK-U-SCRIPT
Come on! Is that the best blast you've got?
Your thunder tantrums don't scare me - Your flash and flare they're half hot!
I love this dunder, blunder, thunder, and underhand rumble-in-the-jungle!
Touché! Olé! We're duellin' again with fork-pronged lightn' sparkling lances.
Clang! Bang! Ker-pow! Ker-plunk! Ker-thump! - Your thunder's late by years!
I flash, bash, smash, crash, gnash — while your Ker-boom goes boom blah, blah, Ahah!
Your quick flashback, claptrap wisecracks come back five seconds late.
Bolt after bolt, your jolts, revolts, cheap-shots and pot-shots hit my ear flaps.
All roar, no score, no gore, no nosebleeds — just air stabs in ionized air.
By then your temper, torage, outrage, out in the garage is binned — You lost!
You ain't learned nothin' from last night's plate-a-smashin' dry run.
Oh No! Don't let the rain come down!
We're both having far far too much fun!
You can't resist, can you — spoiling the perfect row —
By making up, way, way, way ..... too soon!
Before we implode or reach cluster one
What do you want from me, as you humans dry run
We are Poles apart in what you and I do
Marooned you will be, if you don't turn to be true
I am only but a sphere, but your wearing the inside out
Our futures lost for words as we enter life's drought
There is time for dialogue to take it back
Will it be a great day for freedom, or will we enter our black
Around the table of powers we have to keep talking
We had high hopes when we stooped, we may cease to stop walking
It beggars belief that we are heading into strife
Maybe one day we'll acknowledge, that were coming back to life
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