Long Fan Poems
Long Fan Poems. Below are the most popular long Fan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fan poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s an empty canvas above my head,
Where in place of a fan, lies a horse instead,
It breaks free from a self-loathing shed,
At times, when lips silenced words from being said.
Runs across the wall, the horse
But without glee, despite being free, without any remorse,
Numbly it sprints in a white landscape,
For it to understand its purpose is beyond vague.
As it gallops, it leaves a trail of self-identity behind,
Unaware of the absence of a sound mind,
It doesn’t take long for years to pass from specks of time,
And the canvas remains an art piece, still confined.
Displeased by my efforts, I try to find an eraser,
I sigh as I realise that fate was never in my favour,
With no escape from what I’ve just done,
I prepare myself for the final outcome.
So, a cowardly canvas is above my head,
But in place of a horse lies a fan instead,
It is attached to a rope?—?compassionately holding my head,
At last, I die as a muse of a cowardly death.
In the hills of Ireland
where shamrocks sway
lived a leprechauness
in her quiet way.
With a pot on the stove
and a shoe needle in hand,
she cooked, she cleaned,
in her magical land.
Across green valleys
where rivers run wild
roamed a Clurichaun
with a mischievous smile.
In a bacchus of wine,
amidst whispered
tales of chance
and fragrant scents
he found delight,
till her laughter and wit
caught him one starry night.
She challenged his whims
with a playful jest
and slowly but surely
she won his interest.
Through banter and laughter
their voices entwined,
in each song and piano night
two hearts aligned.
Through the magic of music
their love came alive
in sweet melodies
they found their thrive.
Hearts found solace
in each tender glance
in the harmony of love.
they found their first dance.
A Clurichaun is like a Leprechaun.He leads a capricious life,iindulging in wine and fancy.
The Leprechauness (The female version of a Leprechaun).A mythical creature from Irish tales known for making shoes and the guardian of her pots of gold .
Can't help but follow you
Wherever it is you go
I'm your biggest fan
Thought you might want to know
I watch your every move
Been everywhere you've been
That my love is just how much
It is to me you mean
Oh, I almost forgot
So I don't cause a fright
That is my wild eye reflection
In your window every night
It's a part of what I do
A big part of my plan
As I spend my days with you
As your biggest fan
I have a lock of hair
I bought off eBay
Would you mind if I stopped by
Just to authenticate
What I bought was dirty blonde
When I know you are brunette
Though they both look good on you
On top your pretty head
Are you dating anyone
Have a love that's true
Cause I could be that special one
That special one for you
I've already been on your tour bus
That was my lipstick heart in the back
In fact right now I'm writing this
From atop the luggage rack
Remember when you looked at me
I was in the 18th row
It was like we shared a secret
That only you and I both know
That secret being I'm here for you
I know you understand
You and I were meant to be
Cause I'm your biggest fan
Note****I wish everyone a Merry Christmas. I do know it is December, but this poem demanded an outing, so here it is. When they want to be. We may be mere Serb ants. I am planning to do a Poetics blog about such things. Please watch for it. Here goes...
Childhood Summer
Room’s so hot I can’t sleep,
My fan’s the size of a bread plate
And it’s spinning shakes
The table it’s set on. Just
Me in the harsh night, while
I see through my open window,on
The street below nothing moves
To stir up air and send it in.
I lie attuned to the night.
Wiping sweat off my brow.
Slapping a crawling fly off my thigh.
I go down to the kitchen where
Mom sits as I know I will find her,
With five newspapers half-read,
A glass with whiskey and water, its
Ice melted, half-drunk. She wipes
The sweat from her brow. I glance up,
The clock cookoo’s two a.m. and
She says, “Couldn’t sleep?”
Truth.
I answer, “Right.”
Is
At her elbow, the radio news
Broadcasts, ”86 degrees.”
It’s the tropics come to live in New Jersey
In 1965, so there’s no central air and
The fan in the kitchen is only the size
Of a dinner plate, rattling the metal stovetop
Where it sits making no difference.t5
Heat rises. I stay in the kitchen; stretch out
To sleep on the floor. Mom, I hear, rises
With a newspaper in hand and walks
To the screen door, to lean out, to fan herself,
As if the difference mattered.
*******. ********. ********. *******
(C) sally Young eslinger 12/18/2020
Thanks be to God
Inclinations Of Fan
Ceiling fan mesmerized the day’s hypnotic flashings
Sunlight fractured through rotating blades
Someone must have traduced it with black magic
Or a switch turned on when we weren't looking
False currants of air, created up there
Pretending to be wind inside the room
Are merely fabrications of the ceiling fan
Humming complacently about a motor at its core
Variable speeds at war with nature
Pretending to be wind is such a sin
Slow, medium, fast… won’t last forever
Ceiling fan will stop one day for many reasons
Electric cost is at the top
An condition unit will replace it for a time
When the grid goes out by bombs or hackers
Paper fans will do just fine
To all of you fans sitting close to the field:
When you see a fair grounder coming, please yield.
That means that the ball coming is still in play.
If you interfere, you just might ruin the day.
The umpire will say it’s a ground rule double.
Take the ball away, and you’ll be in trouble.
The runner on first must go back to third base.
Your team may lose the game, and that’s a disgrace.
That runner may have scored your team’s tying run.
They’ll be losing a game which they could have won.
Sure, you’ll have yourselves a wanted souvenir
However, that baseball’s cost might be quite dear!
One thousand dollars fine, and you’ll be kicked out.
The players and fans won’t like it; there’s no doubt.
That ball must be foul before taking it out.
So think before you interfere with that ball.
A game must be a pleasure for one and all.
Should tardy relief take full years more
To grace fallen visages with angst taut,
Let kind nature her multiplied joys hone,
And gild final grins past art's fickle fault.
May saddest souls that now fret most
Gleam with heaven's grandest succor,
No more numbed by fear's fake ghost;
Free from inky mists and bleak rancor.
The gloomiest of hearts down with care
Shall glitter under jubilation's final glare,
And forget prickly sorrow's ghastly pain;
Wholly unafraid of shame's broken train.
He'll his victorious head at last carry high
After blacking ignominies and stigmas go;
None shall Art's virgin blossoms blight so,
Killing fresh dreams whose sign inch nigh.
This star-crossed champ at last shall reign,
And his chafing fan her dead cheers regain.
Excitement is brewing for the play-off game,
who to claim a podium close-up fame,
winner of 2018 21st FIFA World Cup's name.
Scheduling and planning their dream
to cheer on their favorite team.
Fans at the game watching united,
dressed in their lucky sports team attire, delighted,
cold, getting rained on, and excited.
Television armchair football enthusiast
muttering, "C-o-o-l call. Revenge at last."
He follows every move, wishing he was there,
but at home watching on his big screen, a bear.
Everyone in the stadium is bouncing off the walls,
inspiring cheers and rants, raves and calls.
While the Armchair enthusiast with his own calls,
within his walls his soul appalls.
The hero standing in the middle of a melee, with a thin
breeze around the football field, using a Cruyff Turn spin,
then brilliantly threading the ball home winning
the World Cup for his country. It’s only the beginning.
6/25/2018
The championship has been awarded every four years since the inaugural tournament in 1930 for except in 1942 and 1946 when it was not held because of the Second World War, a global war that lasted from 1939 to 1945.
Poetry Contest: 2018 World Cup
Sponsored By: Mark Toney
Fan Fiction
The Gospels and Acts, fan fiction for all,
Written decades after the epistles of Paul.
Paul knew nothing of Jesus’ life.
Not his birth, his miracles, his disciples or his strife.
So decades after he supposedly died,
Believers craved more backstory, applied
To the life of Jesus to make him seem,
As great as any other god’s meme.
Mark is the oldest, scholars agree.
With Matthew and Luke using a tremendous degree,
Of Mark’s tale of Jesus and we can see,
Because Greek syntax is as fluid as a language can be.
After Mark came Matthew and then came Luke.
Only fundamentalists care to rebuke.
So in reality we do not have three
In the Greek it’s plain to see.
Word for word, anyone can see,
Only hard core believers will disagree.
Matthew used ninety five percent of Mark,
And in his account, he will embark,
On adding to the tale, his own events,
Making Jesus more divine as he adds his contents.
Seventy five percent of Mark is in Luke,
And of course, some want to refute
This, but once again it’s in plain site,
Accepted by most without a fight.
Further what is seen in Gospels one and three,
Is that even more of the words in those agree.
About a quarter of Matthew and Luke’s two books,
Are only found in these two, gadzooks!
This means that Matthew and Luke,
Are mostly the same and this is no fluke.
Their goals were to add to each previous tale,
And in their goals, they did not fail.
So in the end it’s important to see,
The synoptic gospels really aren’t three.
Mimesis and additions, no matter the way,
Just make our god the best to pray
To.
And keep in mind, this is all after Paul,
Who says nothing of Jesus and Jesus’ cabal.
So in the end, for all to see,
It’s just fan fiction amongst the three.
A baseball team hard to follow
Failures really tough to swallow
Many problems from stem to stern
Fans' frustration in a slow burn
Managers don't know what to do
To get the Dodgers out of the blues
Too close to Hollywood it would seem
Many distractions bad for a team
Ahead by eight games in '62
Seemed just too good to be true
Sandy Koufax leading the way
Then bad luck came into play
Injury knocked Koufax out
Dodgers lost all games in a rout
With the Giants in a tie
Hard to accept the reason why
Fell to the Giants in a playoff
Series hopes sadly lost
After '62 the Dodgers were back
Won two Series with Sandy Koufax
In the '70s the Dodgers tanked
Dropped two Series to the hated Yanks
FOX bought team in '98
I'm now less certain about their fate
Team sold again in '04
How could a fan ask for more
Team again sold to folks in LA
Had big money with which to play
Tried to buy their way to the top
Bought three players from the Sox
One was named A. Gonzalez
A gifted player with great prowess
Two others were hurt and all done playin'
That's all about this I'm gonna' be sayin'
Astros beat Dodgers in '17
Houston cheated it would seem
Signs were stolen by that team
Oh my heavens that was mean
Lost to Boston in '18
Another Series left in waiting
It's true some Series the Dodgers have won
But with bad luck we had less fun
Hey what are their chances this year
Dodger front office says never fear
Same old story I frown and sneer
They're too short on pitching
I need a beer
Wait a minute
2020 Just happened
Dodgers won Series
I can't stop laughin'
Hurray, hurray
There's so much to cheer
My joy for this team
Now crystal clear
Faith in the Dodgers
Returns to this fan
Lots to celebrate
That's my plan