Long Every which way Poems
Long Every which way Poems. Below are the most popular long Every which way by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Every which way poems by poem length and keyword.
A meadow is described as an open grassland with non-woodsy plants
but the garden bird carrying rose seeds from afar was wild and free
unbeknownst to him, a rose drooped into his bird seed-- to share,
plus he was too lackadaisical a fellow to be so precise as to plant
the rose into a landscaped rose garden row, where it'd be pruned
besides when you gotta go, you gotta go -- the same goes for birds
so when he made a pit-stop in the rose-less meadow, he shared, too
thus a red & white Double Delight blossoms and wilts, as she grows
scattering petals on the ground, or into the breeze, every which way
unhampered by rose-petal cakes, or pressed-flower bookmarks
providing rest whenever the little bird fancies a flight overhead
hence it is now called The_Rose_Meadow, for this singular rose :D
May 6, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I completely made this up! :O For:
"Rose Meadow Poetry Contest"
(Free verse poetry form only)
Deadline: Saturday, May 20, 2023!
Sponsored by: Julia Ward :D
Staring at my left palm
on a winter day
V’s and X’s going every which way
A tic tac toe grid under my thumb
Double life line toward the wrist
Triangle connects the head and heart line
Tiny checkers on thumb mount
Three lucky bracelets around my wrist
The angels planned this well
Some say I am white
I laugh for I am pink, tan and beige.
If you turn my palm over, I am spotted with brown dots.
Nothing white about me.
A little dab of blue where you can see my veins.
The only white I can see on my body is my toenails
White there and only there.
I return to my left palm
Enjoying the star in the middle.
Come all you
knights and maidens
a gathering for you
in the jungles of life
Traveling to the center
of our world
To you all I hail
take me to this other land
Showing me magic spells
Like the warlock of old
You give me
portions of love
in the land
of milk and honey
Dreams become reality
With all the emotions
A man or a woman possess
Vanishing in
the Bermuda triangle
The triangle
of emotions
Like moses
the sea parts
Paradise lost
hidden in the storm
Tossing me
every which way
Spiraling around
in circles
In whirlpool
of air
my breath labored
Crushing like
the great boa
To breathe no more
Pain and suffering
pass us by
All of a sudden
I am there
A mystical land
beautiful flowers everywhere
Smells of paradise
Flowers of many colors
a wonder
to the beholder
Beauty as far
as the eyes can see
Bards with magical words
Turns a desert
to paradise
The land of giants
Among'st giants
who raise me up
With magic words
you walk on water
Waterfalls fountains
of forever young
The departed never age
Youth forever love
Standing tall
I am in paradise
In my hand a quill
We stand giants
blown away each breath
We speak
of dreams of love
Happiness in a fairytale ending
Stories of pain
with that of suffering
Of good
fortune and woe
Dreamers
a circle of poets
With a pen
they take you
to the door
Come dine with me
at this table
We are knights and maidens
Lost in this magical realm
Created from love
Emotions
from our hearts
Hate the burning
emotion of love
In the sunset
of our mind paradise
...A jolt ran though the broken men,
like wraiths they rose, streamed for the door,
Gobayth waved them on until
nobody remained anymore.
They raced on towards the small hut
where all of the pick-aces lay,
some guards were starting to notice,
running about every which way.
Gobayth wished the poor men luck,
but he did not follow their path,
and instead ran to the side gate
the guards used to go out and back.
It was little more than a door,
and Gobayth figured these keys
might just be what could open it,
one of them did, and he was free!
He heard the fight behind him race,
but raced toward the stables dark,
ducked low as two guards raced by,
the sight nearly stopping his heart.
He slipped in and grabbed a lean horse,
didn’t bother with a saddle,
rode it out and cantered northwards,
by the stars, through night, he travelled.
Come day he hid in deep forest,
usually laying low by a stream,
he’d eat whatever he could find,
then make ground under the moon’s beams.
Several days brought him to the moors,
the great, rolling plains of his youth,
he wanted to cry out in joy,
but came to see a brutal truth.
The grass was blackened, turned to ash,
only some young seedlings poked through,
fire had consumed everything,
at least everything in his view.
He saw no horses, cattle, goats,
no herds ambling through their home,
but as he pushed on he soon saw
scattered heaps on animal bones,
And further still, charred, half-burn tools,
seared rawhide, skeletal ten frames,
whole families were set ablaze,
very little of them remained.
He rode to where his family
usually grazed this time of year,
the landscape didn’t change that much,
his stomach was a knot of fear.
Then he found a burnt-up lodgepole,
a falcon totem on the top,
the metal bird, his family’s crest…
Gobayth’s heart and reason stopped.
Around the site were scattered bones,
picked over by the scavengers,
what remained of the ones he loved,
Which were his sisters? His mother’s?
On the bones he saw deep sword-cuts,
this hadn’t just been the fire,
people had killed them where they stood,
a massacre had transpired.
He searched the grass around the site,
trying to find some sort of trace,
he found a broken, steel spearpoint,
the kind the Black Flint people made…
CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
Frog Adventures - journey always continues - A Collaboration
The Frog lands on earth smiling
Nothing has changed In mirror reflections
Bearing gifts from his mission on Mars
He met the cow who jumping over the moon
On the milky way he lay back rocking thoughts
Upon the moons' smile on a beautiful memory
Laughing having fun In warm joy
When lightning struck
Striking a beautiful tune sings out
Watching the dish elope with the spoon
Crying It looks like the cat Is playing the fiddle
Sadly tugging heart strings the temperature drops
Every which way swaying lost
One craft on this ocean a ghost ship
Into a shadow horizon
I sail to you In light of the moon
Are you sure? That Is not quite the story of the Frog that seamen tell. He lost all his gifts when he fell Into the sea. This Is the way seamen tell It.
Captain Jamie Lee Is at the wheel the ghost ship was the Dramallach Raven
A fine upstanding bunch of pirate lads not one of them was a craven
Now out of the corner of his eye Jamie Lee did spy
Something strange and he almost gave a startled cry
A Frog fell Into the sea small and green
Frog overboard He did lustily cry his eyes sharp and keen
The mate threw over the line and then to crews surprise
A little green frog holding a brollie stood before their eyes
This little Frog lifted up and placed on the poop deck
A poor little fellow he was and he looked quite a wreck
It was then Mr. Frog noticed Jamie Lee was a ghost
And he turned white and lean Instead of being green
As he sat shaking looking up at his host
"Now Mr. Frog what will I do with you oh deary me
Bash you on the head then off with your legs and have you for my tea"
Don't panic, didn't happen, just a bit of ghostly pirate humour there. There were no Frogs harmed In the making of this poem. Now, where was I? oh yes.......
"Now Mr. Frog what will I do with you oh deary me
I think we'll take you back to Ireland across the briny sea"
A Collaboration by Liam Mcdaid & Michael Clarke.
A cousin named Chaos have I (he’s not actually my cousin. He’s like my aunt’s stepson, but I guess I can still call him a cousin, right?)
There’s nothing that he will not try (like the day he let all the chickens loose from the coop and they were running like chickens with their heads cut off. Isn’t that an expression or something? Chaos is crazy like those chickens were)
Since he follows no rule (He laughs at me because I try to write perfectly metered limericks and he thinks everyone should just write free and BE free in all they do.)
He got kicked out of school (it was so funny. He set off the fire alarm and all the kids were running every which way, much like those chickens he let loose in his barnyard. Now he is saying he wants to become an anarchist.)
So to anarchy school he’ll apply!
Gosh, he’s right. This limerick sucks. It’s much more fun having no restrictions, just letting my thoughts go anywhere I want them to take me, kind of like stream of consciousness writing or something. Too bad I can’t be all surreal-like, then I might make it into the newfangled modern poetry magazines. Most people don’t even consider limericks to be real poems. DANG it, I feel another one coming on.
Cousin Chaos, I now do hear tell
That you’ve found a new school, so learn well
Your anarchy ways.
In limerick phase
I’ll be stuck while you give people hell.
Crap. Even trying to write like Chaos, I just can’t do it. I just keep conforming to rules of poetry forms like limerick. I just know my cousin will be laughing his chicken head off when he reads this. Yeah, the old chicken motif again. Always relating things together. So much for Chaos! I’m outta here.
Written chaotically last week sometime for contest of same name
Sands blow over
touching inside deep waves
turning tides warmly glow,
softly fluttering winds touching gently
upon the shores.
An oasis of beauty
deeply dazzling
freely calling your name,
drifting a carpet mist
kissing the air sweetly
silver shadows
hauntingly magic echoes,
carrying music upon
cotton clouds bouncing
in each and every single
whispering silent breath gasping
Breathing upon
one golden ritual
forever shines always,
I believe in you love,
a sunflower
made beautifully,
brightening sunlight beams
in every which way,
adoring light
all i ever wanted
is you babe .
Unblemished in a seamlessly soft,
Carrara marble, all young and proud,
Standing in the moment of pure delight,
With nobody else around,
Your soft kitten paw covered in cloth,
Both puppies forever unclothed,
Your figure is perfect in every which way,
Your truth is fully exposed,
The truth of your thoughts of intimately free,
Thoughts in your secretive dance,
Thoughts of the seductive play in your mind,
Of a musically youthful romance,
My beautiful Venus standing with flowers,
You’re my flower with a beautiful voice,
Singing the song of beauty and love,
Forever singing without making a noise.
In the void of my transitional mind,
the aimless scatter-shots of snapshot in kind
finding itheir way.through pokes in the brine.
Saran wrap bindings of biased memories, invent orys,
and tupper-ware leftovers tidings of dreams, kept palatable for the aroaming beasts.
I find the manipulations stirring like mercurial-gravy,
sardonical Last Suppers of my humanity at
the toppings station, insulting.
Where's the variety, where's the if there
is a will there's a way?
Where's the frikkin beef?
I heard that commercial say- (I agree,
where's our defense against the dark arts Teacher
or our non f'd with bandwith to have our say?
;My Atriuk-Consultants,
disappearing, through a buffet line
of suitors for my gun hand-as treason's malignant mercenary gland.
Stranger in a strange clan.
Now every thought is like a remembrance, a
severance to pay for it all.The tying to-me
in Gordian crossroads mocked silverly
by multi directional unabaiting winds
blowing adversarily.
Each pointing "this way you fail !"
"Every which way a noose !"
"This way you fall !"
Of on the loose this way dungeon echoes
a calling as dark corridor Shades
with no true form to call.
The past haunts, the future calls,
lost in the chaos urn, as time falls-
in diminished return,
for the base is nearly full to lay
as a squandored mound of time.
Like shooting stars across the sky,
my dreams flicker, then fade and die?
Searching for purpose, to see what sticks.
I fire all of my rounds at once
In this endless maze of day and night I pace
these walls, like those Demonic Shades,
who chant "hey Jude" and perform "Jude Law"
in Shakespearean play, "There's something about Mary...
whomever target to sway. Come wicked this way s.
But in the darkness, I find a kin-spark
guide in my self defense,
of cheerlead everence in reference to
hope belonging to everyone the same.
A torch in the deepening dark
to saber heroicly for my good name.
Iwill rise from the sullen ashes,
strong and brilliantly bright, aiimless no more,
faith in my sights.
Pull !
Let the scatter shot fall where it may,
I'll carve my path, come what may.
For in the chaos, I see the arts of strength,
the part I play,
I find beauty's confidence and vision
in the facets of my jaded heart,
that maybe I can help the World in some small but
contrite way.
the mind
flees
any prison
that traps
the body,
for it is
f r e e...
no tether
can keep it
tied down.
it can never be
fenced in
or caged
within four walls.
it has feathers
that can't be plucked
it's free to roam
to soar
with sturdy wings
that can't be clipped;
freer than
any bird that can fly!
it goes places
they can't follow.
it's so free...
like wind
blowing
every which way