Long Fisher Poems
Long Fisher Poems. Below are the most popular long Fisher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fisher poems by poem length and keyword.
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Not For Contest
As the dusk approaches, with a fusk grunt on his face,
He realizes he has to do what's right;
To save his people from the treacherous minotaur maze,
To risk his life for people in vain.
As the sail shall not be great, he decides to travel with fate.
But truly he thinks it will be wise.
As they set off with the black flags, he promises old deer king they will change
If he survives;
With a glimmering glow from the waters below he sets sail for the island.
Miles and Miles sea after sea the destination comes nearly to a stop
With gusting winds and blushing seas, they’ve made it, at last.
While being stripped of his weapons and armor,
He notices a watching, Deer old princess of the kingdom
While her eyes glimmer at him, he looks away with unsought
Enter the Maze says one of the guards,
They all embark into the cave.
The Princess had given Theseus a sword, as he will use wisely
Standing back in the darkness the children look around,
Nothing but pitch darkness around,
Instead of staying there they decide to explore
But beware of the night before.
With a sword in his hand and rope in the other
He notices a shadow in the darkness,
The children stay back while Theseus steps forward
Confronts the beast with another step forward
With heavy breathing and death on the side
It's time for the fight he thought with a sigh.
With a Shock to the head, Theseus falls back
Gets on his feet and Shocks him back, the minotaur has been wounded
With more hits after and after the minotaur falls with a cry
Tangled in pain Theseus tanks and cut the enemy
Waiting for it to fall
To cell to the floor.
As they embark the ship again,
He comes with the princess to an island,
While he leaves her there they continue off to join the journey
To off to the king with a surprise,
Unlikely they forgot to change the sails from black
To white, so the king decides to do something unright.
The king sees the black sail and knows the worst,
With a jump, he had did
To off the cliff, he had went
So many outs he had made, while Theseus came back
And heard the news
Of the fallen king
With a joust, he had did
With a celebration understood
The newly king has been awakened
But something wasn't right,
All that night he thought of his father
Sitting and pondering with gonder.
©ChandlerFisher_2017
Lucy Locket lived amidst Lakeland Hills, where jay serenaded morning;
Like plum rainbows celebrate sunshine, with never any silent warning.
Lucy was merely twenty years old, like a peach rose, dusted with dew;
And she was also a dutiful teacher, unveiling what children never knew.
Lucy liked to sew and to garden, like green nature, roving everywhere,
Recalling lavish, sunset skies we used to view, in the colors of vanity fair.
Kitty Fisher was Lucy's best friend, amidst many, for she was popular;
Like finches are popular in floriated summer, creating gladness, ocular.
Fancy emerald nature wore fun, fantasy makeup, in its faceted colors;
And unfaltering family flattered fall with visits, beloved like no others.
Kitty lived in the house of very ordinary, like cherry redbirds singing;
Where silver moments comprised golden hours, jeweled time ringing.
Summer snapdragons grew quite lovely, on her sparkling street of sun;
And scarlet maples smiled colors, until the smoky season left, sudden.
Nepalese neighbors narrated tales of sweet nation, at mulberry night,
When nectarous, naval oranges hung ripely, under moon, satiny white.
Purple ranunculus blooms resembled roses, when sunrise echoed dusk;
And 'Marimo Moss Balls' played water polo, while jasmine trailed musk.
Giant water lilies ruled placid lakes, giving rise to titanic, pink blooms;
As golden sun and calm moon vie for dominion, inside separate rooms.
Lucy and Kitty went to a lecture, in a lavish, lavender evening of larks.
The lively, literary topic was much enjoyed, like the sun's dying sparks.
Afterwards, Kitty and Lucy parted, each to their own welcoming home;
Like a green bird of turquoise skies, oft makes its nostalgic way, alone.
Later, Lucy discovered her pocket was missing, its location so unknown,
Like red streaks of gold time, ever fleeing, past a blue, marble milestone.
Next day dawned golden, and Lucy's pocket, she found on her doorstep.
Golden coins were tied to its ribbon. And at Kitty's note, her heart leapt!
For it was Lucy's sparkling, glad birthday, as devoted friends remember;
And Kitty had made it one of her best, like hued leaf nights of November.
'Lucy Locket lost her pocket,
Kitty Fisher found it;
Not a penny was there in it,
Only ribbon round it.'
Since the elders often proclaim, my how time flies,
You then naturally look up into the skies.
To study the heavens for at least one small sign,
From the horizon up to the tallest tree line.
Then suddenly, a flock of birds flitters about,
So you believe that you might have time figured out.
But when the old people mentioned, my how time flies,
They didn’t bring up birds; so is time in disguise?
As a carnival balloon, yes that’s it, you say,
Like the vanishing kind on a bright summer day.
But losing your own, is one of life’s biggest fears,
Since you don’t want to waste any time crying tears.
It’s possible that time is commuting by plane,
Which is surely the fastest speed time could attain.
But what good can that be when the planes out of sight,
Unless it quickly returns from its roundtrip flight?
Then is waiting around to see time such a waste,
When each day there are many affairs to be faced?
Then out of the blue a helicopter is seen,
And you reflect, maybe time is on that machine.
But as soon as a copter is here it’s gone by,
After noisily chopping the beautiful sky.
Although it’s very unlikely time takes that ride,
Unless it cannot hear, or ear plugs are supplied.
Wait a minute, I got it, time surfs over clouds;
If I could do the same all my friends would be proud.
And occasionally time would appear as rain,
But then an excess amount would go down the drain.
Then could time be a portion of air all the time,
To be breathed in, or to give life to a wind chime?
Though, is that really flying like old people claim?
It seems all my guesses are exactly the same.
Well, after a long life of thinking and trying,
To figure out the ways that time could be flying,
In heaven, by feather, or motor, as vapor,
Yet, not one of those ways can be proved on paper.
Until recently, when I looked in the past,
The answers were there for those time questions asked.
That time really flies, though it takes time to see,
That a lifetime of living, is the real key.
And now I tell the young, that time truly flies,
But don’t bother looking up into the skies.
Time earns its wings every day, inside the mind,
And can only be seen, when looking behind!
David Fisher for Impress Me-Iambic Meter Contest
Philosophical motif
Who were you today,
at your best moments?
Grouchy hermit
already missing quality dream times
and rhythms
when chimes greet pre-light's crust frosty dawn,
to get Yang, then Yin, up and out of our sangha,
ready to enter their own daytime sanghas,
tired drama of such anciently perennial retired,
repeat,
reiterate,
Monday through Friday.
Notice
red coal scale patterns
in blackened ash logs,
burning to fluffy carbon chalk,
nutrient potential for some soils,
although not mine,
perhaps my neighbor's?
Joy
for a bright, although admittedly too intermittent, sun,
sliding in and out of hiding.
A smile,
where one would otherwise have been sadly absent.
Cold
feeling Arctic on my ears and neck
and nose
and onward through
toward my aching bone marrow,
near my well-heated
and brightly lit
domestic non-destination.
Ellen Fisher on NPR saying
"No one gets out of love alive."
with so much enthusiasm and passion
for regenerative feelings and empathic maturing capacity
to manage anger's ego-offense
with a strong remembering love's co-opportunity defense
against high risk anthro-entitled,
narcissistic ego-bratty behavior.
Gratitude
for Yin political and economic cooperative investments
seeking Earth harmonic balance.
Terror
of untimely taxing rest as grace,
of older-wiser intent
without time to hear Earth's glamorous response,
to new found mutually speaking freely parts
and songs of dancing glances
Eagerly lifting
blue tarp skirt
of my elegantly stacked woodpile,
seducing me with more hard fuel
for erotic clandestine fires.
Feeling PoisonYang feeding on my trinitarian blind
and bald spot,
sucking in any embodied nutrients she might hope to find
within such great grand fatherly care,
laughing together
at just how silly we appear
even to our wu-wei selves,
together better
than apart
Still mind embodied fullness
content contention in this narrow midway
modestly chasing Gods of True Love reborn
Resisting insisting
long-married Gods and Goddesses of Angry Past Deductions
fueling Fear of Future's Inductive Reduction
dualdark disfunction
Confluent inhumane demise
sinking unease
singing ease
to full mooned
yin-hibernating
yang-hypernation
waning waxing sways.
On the shore of silence, my shadow drifts, a ship adrift,
Waves in the night, stirring depths where silent songs break in contemplation,
I was just a step, a stray step, on the edge of the abyss to tumble,
One step and the soul would be enchanted by echo, in a whirl of extinguished stars.
I float among the relics of time: old wood and withered shell,
A ghost in the cell of my own force, hidden behind walls of sand.
I hum softly, a refrain of departure, to leave the city of ghosts,
Lost on spirals of wind, where memories are chains of rust.
Karma sweeps with the bow over strings that no longer resonate,
Silence instead of chords; only old refrains obsess me.
I hum blues in thought, with an ancestral weight in my stomach,
Hope tangled in a snare, in the rattling of the string that hands catch.
Barred windows, wallpapered pulse, the external world just a ripe fantasy,
You can't catch a breath, not when dreams are nails caught under the ground.
But she came and from old abysses extended a comforting hand to me,
"Offer me just a moment, astral fisher," whispering a call to illuminate.
With the courage of a star commander, she serenaded me, catching me by surprise,
With eyes burning like two submerged suns, wearing flames as a celestial cloak.
Tempted by her outline, dancing through the twilight, her silhouette slicing the darkness,
I returned her smile and rolled the dice in the game of lights and shadows.
Under a dome of nights, we shed any common right,
Where the lambs of the sky were our witnesses, and the waves were a song for the jury of silence.
In horizons, laws were written in foam; perhaps the birds watched us with interest,
If they had called for the land captains, we might have been washed ashore by waves.
Not all risks deserve fringes of hope in the dance under the moon,
Sometimes even the boldest steps don't find their rhythm over the drowsy waters,
But the answer under the stars was to accept the challenge, to question the sky,
To play the high stake, though I never pretend, she was a mystery full of color.
It's enough to fall into unexpected luck
When you bet on a pair sought in sleepless dreams,
Weaving real with imaginary, on beaches beyond time.
If I should fly this earth tonight
somewhere between two sleeps
to the beating of a rythm
in the cadence my heart keeps
My heart shall beat its measure
to the faucet's broken seam
that leaks my mind to other worlds
and begs my soul to dream
I dream I fish for souls of men
seawater drops the looking glass
My ship is coming on the tide
I pray this vessel be my last
The souls of men shall be my treasure
of which I'd fill the cargo hull
for nothing fills my heart with pleasure
like fishing for men's souls
So on, and on, and on I fish
while the dripping cuts the seam
that leaks my mind to all dimensions
and frees my soul that beams
For while I'm pleasedwith bigger fish
it's the smaller ones I rue
The schools of the smaller souls
my nets keep passing through
So finer nets than theseI'll need
and time's no cost to me it's true
these finer nets I need take time
God rest my weary crew
These finer nets my looms will spin
and for these I count the cost
The smaller souls I'll catch in time
before they're even lost
I know the winds of fortune
are fickle with their kiss
but I know just what the future holds
an eternity of bliss
So if I fly this earth tonight
somewhere between two sleeps
to the beating of that rythm
in the cadence my heart keeps
I'll send my prayers straight up to God
in the twinkling of an eye
To save those souls a wandering
before they even die
God save me from the devil's hand
and spare me from the rod
My heart is broken from this world
I give my soul to God
I follow stars by ship at night
and sail all seven seas
to find the souls of men who're lost
by ones, and twos, and threes
My destiny was never wrote
my fate was ne'r decreed
My choices all were made for naught
for this my heart will bleed
So if I fly this earth tonight
somewhere between two sleeps
to the beating in the rythm
of the cadence my heart keeps
My ship's a coming on the tide
and fishing is my game
all the souls I've caught thus far
will never be the same
My ship's a coming on the tide
and sunshine rays come down
another soul is caught in time
they're lost and then they're found
What natural
Is, tell!
The hawk in tabloid swoop did boast –
Whose sweetened-toil doth but
Stink, becometh it
A merry-menu nutriment.
The floods and the woods
Of their own stead in silent-words
– As a sentry –
Sendeth but a sober plea of a loyal peasantry
O, Nature! Creator! – all alludeth in an apogee
To Thy apanage and earnestly giveth plaudit unto Thee.
The swallow withal doth cheerfully
Gather and spin the straw ready to build wholly
Her empire of great tutelage;
And with her brethren bridally liveth in that age
Of diligent generation, in Thee fully hid
And given to lead like a kid.
What is more natured
Than a frog or toad in water plodded and nurtured?
His severe and heedless howl showeth his joy
To tell that: silent in a grave he shalt be a toy!
And the squirrel the jungle quire bustleth from
Tree to tree defiant of mortal wisdom.
A colossal splendour standeth
Thine sun, whose domain the day standeth;
Withal the moon’s comity: Thou, to her appal,
Bestoweth Thine night colonel –
Both but enlisteth in Thine countless soldiers of stars
Thine extol they effuseth like showers.
No less for praise, joineth the beasts –
In the homes so in the forests!
At peace in war as an influenza, Thine honours –
Man, Thine effigy, intellect and genius, in his hours
Extendeth through the gross of polity
Concurring with each command of Thine policy.
O, the fish speaketh of Thine glory, ingenious!
This inferred from a noisy-silence of her fins;
For she scorneth the indigent effort
Of the fisher whose labour won doth him hurt;
Yet, both creatures in many a varied way
Inditeth for posterity great praises that for Thee doth stay.
Yes, the clouds and the firmaments
Oceans, rivers, seas: all waters in constant movements
Doth in harmony with man and beasts
Arrayed in silent-noisy feasts
Shower in mysterious mirth
Thine glory from endless history and myth.
Yet, I behold the ineffable work bestowed on me;
My limbs, they moveth to second Thine decree!
My eyes, no exception indeed
To the law of my being, so splendid
Are those commands for me safely to live
Tho’ many infamous beings abound to strive!
Form:
I stand on the premise of time wondering if this day will be mine, the rock is fastened into the ground and the bad weather is driven from the town and courage is onward bound. I stand on the premises of time and gazed beyond the horizon and penetrate the distance that I am coming from and the long empty days that trapped me on the island. The mountains stand up like man in the sea and the heavens rest on the clouds beneath it glorifying thee, the energy is strong and the distance is long and, I will never go back there to help you sing that song. When the sky breaks loose I will start wearing a different pair of shoe. I stand on the premises of time, running away from the love that is not mine, everybody that came back from there, each has a story to share, the native on the island are not aware of it, and they have not noticed that the devil has escaped from the bottomless pit, roaming the island for five long years, trapping the innocent and the guilty underneath its wings but mercy was just on time to get some people out of the bind. It is not quite over yet some people are still caught up into the fisher man’s net , the days are running away from me but hope has come to set me free. I stand on the premise of time looking at the mountain across sea and the everything that I wanted is coming to me, and I made a narrow escape to break out of the gate and cross over before it was too late. Everything is imported to me and the army has removed the entire booby trap, the land mine and all the diabolic dangers that were set to destroy me. The frozen hill is slowly drifting on the sands and the ice on the mountain is slowly melting into the ground and the multitude is staring from a distance. It was just the other day they were there and today they are celebrating the love over here. Our eyes have behold it, our mind have absorb it and destiny has taken us out of it; and so we have escaped the precipice. I am standing on the premise of time, the sun the moon and the stars are divine and I have finally got what is mine but I will not go back there. I will celebrate love with you where everyone can see, I will not go back.
Amy Green, Poet Destroyer and Skitty S.K.A.T. Pooh.
Just a few of the Great Women I've made love to here at the soup.
Carolyn Devonshire and Sara Kendrick too
and Andrea Dietrich, you fire cracker you.
A Rambling Poet, Constance too
and Lena "Lolita" Townsend just to name a few.
There's also Linda "Sweetheart" Marie
and the ever so sweet Audrey Carey.
Colleen Bono, how great are you?
Carol Brown & Loopylu Loopylu,
Charmaine Chircop, Dane Ann Smith-Johnson and Doris Culverhouse too.
What a passionate love affair I have had with all of you.
Carrie Richards, Simone Segal, Deborah Guzzi,
Bathsheba Bathsheba, Ashley Rapanut, Brittany Larson and Faleshia Murphy.
Susan Palli, Jessica Arteaga, Diane Christian, Caroline Cecile Paczynski,
Ann Rich, Mercedes Jordan, Kimberly Hilliker and Catie Lindsey.
Audrey Rollins, Joanna Smith, Patricia Adams, Karen O'Leary,
Janette Fisher, Madeleine McLaughlin, Nicole Sharon Brown and Carey Sakolowski.
Amanda Governale, Nicole King, Rhoda Galgiani, Laura McKenzie,
Bernadette Ignaciuk, Amanda Governale, Izzy Gumbo and Judy Riley.
Sue Mason, Pamela Griffiths, Karen Dominick, Donna Golden, Iolanda Scripca & Royal Royally.
I've even made love to that vile Sylvia, aka Stephanie.
Am I forgetting anybody? I don't really know.
Oh yes, one more comes to mind. Nikko Palmario
So many Great women to make love to here at the soup
and so many many more that theKidster must get to.
I've had a sweet romanticism reading all your poetic words.
Some of the most beautiful verses I've ever read or heard.
BILLYTheKidster wants to thank all of you
for this passionate cerebral love affair with all of you.
There's more Great Woman here at the soup
that theKidster can't wait to make love also too.
This Soup Laundry List Will Just Have
...To Be Continued.
PS: Adeleke Adeite, since this contest is sponsored by you
I guess it wouldn't hurt to say that I've made love to you too
here @ the soup, and enjoyed it too.
(Hey, there isn't anything wrong with Poetic Male Affection, even Poetic Genderless Affection)
I better stop sucking up. I suck at it.