Long Equipment Poems
Long Equipment Poems. Below are the most popular long Equipment by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Equipment poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Grandpa,
Are you aware that you can still get social security income if you act now?
Did you know that Capital One and Visa want to give you credit cards?
Magazines offering tractor and farm equipment deals, building up on my table.
There's an old farm hat in the barn on a pitchfork handle, waiting for its owner.
Orchards are overgrowing, the trees with their sprouts and limbs busting.
Fields in the hands of new owners, being cultivated, some by your sons.
Your "closest friends" all showing up at my door to ask if you're around.
Your "closest friends" showing up at my door, asking for hay, or to hunt.
The sheds and barns all in need of repair, the roofs are in need of replacing.
With fences to mend, equipment to fix, this farm never ceases its needing.
There are tools rusting in longing of use. Cupboards and shelves full of oil.
You've been gone for twenty long years, seems like no one else knows it.
But never let it be said that those who truly were close, forgot what we lost.
Your family still misses you dearly... I just thought that you should know it.
Your grandson,
Jesse.
I saw tomorrow beckoning us just ahead, and it looks so unlike today.
I saw neither evil nor deception blocking our view and standing in the way.
I saw no race, no creed, no bad seed or lusty greed, no grandiose personality.
They dined and spoke of unity, boarders, sovereignties, sacred tranquilities.
I saw the institutes and universities, the think tanks, and military academies.
They researched the oceans' depths and outer space but studied war no more.
I saw justice rolling down like waters. I saw righteousness like an overflowing stream. I saw weapons of war turned into harvest tools and farm equipment.*
This had to be a dream because never had the world experienced this before.
So I quietly left the scene and slowly closed the door only to be confronted,
I must say pleasantly, to another scene leaving no doubt that it was still a dream. The lion and the lamb were no longer adversaries, and the lion was
eating straw. The serpent was no longer frightening nor venomous as he feasted on the dust. It occurred to me that, 'No', it was not a dream that the
whole world was now behaving like a team. It was a prophesy I had read in the Bible about a new world that has 'yet to be'. Just by knowing today, what
tomorrow will be, injects promise and takes away the fear. I heard a pastor say just recently, that we should tune out the bad news and release good news.
It's hard to sort it all out when we are bombarded and saturated with so many points of views. We need not fear, bury our heads in the sand, or head for the
hills. That pastor also said 'that we need to heed and just draw near'. If we but dare to be still and listen, it is with certainty God's voice we will clearly hear.
072820PS*Amos 5:24, Isaiah 2:4
the pond was pumped dry
the ducks gathered at the deepest part
as the pump did its thing
until all the water was sucked away
then they just stood in the wet clay
later
two mallards chased each other around an old oak tree
heads down
disgruntled wings beating
the workmen sat among the trees smoking
and laughing at the birds
there were things in the pond
wriggling minnows
a few rubber balls
the skeleton of a faded red and yellow kite
one black sneaker
the pond floor began to smell bad in the midday sun
the men packed up their equipment
then left in a large white truck
the ducks waddled off to sit under some shade
to wait for something to happen
nothing did
It feels like daylight is running in front of me with a radiant light brighter than the sea and a truck full of almond piled up in the yard while the chipmunks are shouting from abroad. I see some running about the yard and rolling their big eyes at me, some are running up the almond tree looking for a place to start their family.
The chipmunks can sing, and they can compose beautiful hymns, they can write modern music with their mouths and when they group together, they stand out; sometimes they have a strange look on their face and they are telling you when it is time to get out of the way. They come in beautiful colors and they are dressed up in shoes, you can see them faltering around with a staff and a crown and their long tails twist up in gowns.
It feels like daylight is walking in front of me with an I phone, an I pad and four giant cameras standing on a tripod position across the stream and the crew unloading equipment from the truck to shoot the next scene.
The cast is strolling in filling up the village to the brim; strange faces of all races occupy the town. A huge burden is lifted and something feels different when diverse cultures are at work and you are walking around in brand new skirt.
I felt somewhat elated, bridging the gap to wear a new cap, the philosophy of traditional time was not taught in colleges and universities but by ordinary men hanging out in the market places and under trees, having an ordinary dialogue but they were profound and philosophical.
Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Pythagoras, and them were all friends. It was through those idle conversations the arts were born, it was from this idle chat the math's and science gave birth.
Mankind’s quest for answer could not be found in words, it was from the epoch of the soul that write those facts and manifest themselves in formulas and illustration that solve the world’s problem.
The genius of all ages is found in modern acts with a notable transformation from traditional sects to modern time. It is time to get out of your comfort zone and join the line.
It feels like daylight is shouting in my face and it’s time to enter the big race.
There was a young Aussie called Billy
An ant attached and bit the end of his willy
made him holler and dance
all these ants invaded his pants
His swearing and cursing for miles was heard very shrilly
She began to twist in contortion
Her legs now a state misproportion
her neck it did crack
she fell out of her sack
Now moves about with much caution
Every morning took off for a jog
One day got stuck in a bog
how does one now get out
for help a desperate shout
Eventually hopped out transformed here as a bullfrog
A young man supplied equipment for sport
To a local nearby family squash court
a girl a mis-hit on one of his balls
to the floor with much laughter she falls
In pain he declares this squash game with danger is fraught
A demure young lassie called Jilly
Owned a beautiful black and white filly
The last ride was a farce
horse bucked Jilly's flat on her ass
In a landscape that's rocky and hilly
Then a long came Billy the Bonk
A left hook had injured his conk
in bed with another man's wife
took off for the flight of his life
All the geese in observance let out a boisterous honk
A blonde affectionately known as Annie
Her desire for love is uncanny
all her clothes she did shed
too much time in her bed
She's now known as overworked Fanny
footnote Sack a colloquial term for bed in Australia
Morning Start
From out of the east, the sun rises to greet
Me at a table in a café where I sit
With my laptop open, surfing the internet
While snacking on a sweet cinnamon roll treat,
With a cup of freshly brewed coffee to sip.
And for a brief moment, my time stands still,
And I feel as one with the universe
While reading my emails and wiping my lips.
Then, reality intervenes, and my focus shifts
(After finishing the pastry and java uplift)
To look out the filmy window and deep sigh
That I have to proceed to my workplace high-rise
Filled with people and office equipment
Doing routine tasks associated with business.
Clear sand colored sunrise
Against gray sky blue skies
What can I learn from this
Green trees are just black shilouettes
Each species a different shape
They just stand and feed
From the nutrients provided
Drawing carbon dioxide and release
Oxygen on which all animals depend
These trees don't struggle, cry
They just abide in place
Different from one another
But stand close each receiving
What they need from the earth
And from the air
It is pleasantly cool today
Air is crisp dry and just
Barely moving
Days like this are glorious
Hear crows, roosters, dogs
And man made equipment
Breathe deeply of the oxygenated air
Thanks for this time
Maximilianii sunflowers are in full bloom
Over night they opened
What a surprise
They are just beautiful against
The sand colored sunrise
There are five tomatoes turning
On the topsy turvy tomato plant
The cats come to join me
They want my attention
Just a pat or two will do
They want to be fed
Responsibility calls so I must go
Thank you God for the quiet time alone with you
Form:
If I gave it time, I suppose hundreds of things would come to mine.
Like the old two-story mansion where my father's friend made moonshine.
Like the feel of blue, an escape route, that turned many to singing the blues.
'That blue feel' was still strong and hung in the atmosphere like cloths on a back-yard cloth-line.
The combines and farm equipment now occupy the old homesites.
The Chinaberry tree, under which we buried my dog Jack, and the peach trees from which we feasted on sweet treats appear to have taken flight.
Yes, they are the landowners, but who gave them the right? Who gave
them the right to overlook and completely disregard as trite, the passage
to my past? Of course, they had every legal right, and I had none. Yet,
I felt that something of great substance was taken away from me.
To see and feel such blight breeds disgust, not delight.
Was not the lowly impoverished life, lasting for O so long
and burdening languishing souls for generations enough wrong?
It was once a place where I roamed but never felt I belonged;
A place of mere existence that I longed to someday make an exit.
Forty plus years and 2000 miles removed, but the memories persisted.
And the sweet taste of family created there never departed my sensory.
And the fragrance of love introduced there never escaped my memory.
But I wanted to see my birthplace again for myself with my own eyes.
I longed to see my Genesis where I often craved a rendezvous with Exodus.
For some many years. I longed to revisit my birthplace.
But it took decades to actually see the site again. The
House was gone, but I am glad at least I returned.
Although the feel was strange, and the pain was real, there's no
denying that the little quiet village is very much a part of me still.
Some things from our yesterdays are untouchable and forever sealed.
And it is often difficult to explain the pain that in time shall all be healed.
040722PS
Beethoven smashes one piano after another.
He shears through keyboards,
a peasant scything hay.
The composer's fingers don't grow deaf,
they become deeper, more blunted,
like mallets.
His apartment is disorderly,
tools and equipment
are hidden in Dresden figurines,
in elderly Delftware,
ball-peen hammers crammed
into the whittled stems of goose quills.
Augers, grinders and rotary tillers
are rendered into themes and motifs.
Wrecking crews hum and stamp,
tables thump out allegro dissonance.
Into this din and demolition
plows a heavy sonata
the hard-nosed 'Hammerklavier'
bulldozing its trenchant path
into the cramped streets;
where in the absence of safety barriers,
a defiant deconstruction
has begun.
The Nurse of Zionism (part 1)
She visited the stolen land
loved putting her feet in the sand
the sand was not pleased
the crushed bones of Palestinian dreams
olive trees burned so Europeans could party
Over three hundred bullets in a six year old
"Its complicated"
Thousand of children slaughtered
"Its complicated"
Doctors raped in IDF prisons
"Its complicated"
Children used as human shields
"Its complicated"
Hospitals bombed on purpose
"Its complicated"
Medical equipment smashed by soldiers
"Its complicated"
IDF dress up in Palestinians women's cloths
"Its complicated"
One will never heal
with a heart so cold for others
selfish, self centered, self absorbed
to the core
Nazis had nurses too
I should not be shocked
The Angel of Tel Aviv (Part 2)
I ask why the ones
with hearts of gold
carry such a heavy burden
of pain, loss and sadness
The world such a miserable place
nurses should carry compassions grace
mostly true
for in the afternoon sun,
the Hanoun in bloom
in Tel Aviv an angel of mercy
restored my faith in humanity