Long Fitness Poems
Long Fitness Poems. Below are the most popular long Fitness by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fitness poems by poem length and keyword.
Eminem Protege 2
Don't care what you think
I need Ten Shrinks an Ten Pens Full Of Ink
To Let my Inner Wisdom Tink
Colder Than Ten Penguins In A Rink
My Spirit Fitness & Physique at it's Peak
Adrenaline Obese
Extinguished to Concrete
Out the Pyramids Extinct
Into this Physical Dimension as A Sphinx
Face of a Beast of a Lynx
Idiot Beliefs placing limited reach
on my limitless fatigue
My Old Image Obsolete
I stole Potion from Ten Witches An Ten Wishes
from Ten Genies an Ancient Magicians
an Buried the lamps in the Ditches
while I summoned Ten Fighting Spirits
of Venegance as My Apprentices
I Opened my Sealed Syllabus
to Reveal my Ventriloquists
Just left Hells Kitchen with Skin Itching
with Skin Blisters open Skin Pigments
Stealing Lucifers Instruments
to Use them Against Him
To appear as Glitches
against the System
I cook Hot Meals with Mittens
an make him taste the Illness
I'm Inventing
But only an Sample for Interest
for His Taste Senses
cause Hells angels can Sensor the Sizzling
I'm Fly like Ten Twin Pigeons
with Eagles Precision
I'm a Scientist but I ain't writing Science Fiction
with Knowledge that would leave Einstein Winded
I been Fighting for Living
100 percent Percentage
an no less than a Percent difference
Still Power in my Engine
to keep the Ignition Driven
You can't Compare to these Rare Characteristics
the Judgements from your Conscious
is InTolerant to my Unresponsive
Mental Doctrines
Im use to Antagonist
Real Hebrew who's a Zionist
False Prophets who Diabolic an Jewish
Judaism Created with Iron Fist
in A Luciferian Science
of Enlightenment
Jewish Hybrids Of Pirates
Stolen Israels Environment
I ain't Racist
Just apart of a Nation
Created
Created Generations to Generations
Heritage Invaded
an Culture Undertaken
Perpetrated
by The Synagogue of Satanist
my fire been Penetrated
the fire in the eye of the Tiger formulated
stripes on the tiger Blazing
I'm Judahs Inspiration
an Judas Envy Craving
But I'm not Babylons Patriot
Bablyonion Doom Waiting
Doomsday
when the Moon Change
The Wolf Rage
Waging Spiritual Shade
against Ravenous Wolves in Sheeps Wools
is Game
Sharpened Tools
my Sword is Shaped
Cut open the Wolves
an Bathe in the Pool
of Blood til It's Drained
I'm a Prophet in the Apocalypse
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
Born Doris, named for our grandmother Doris Owens,
she is nothing much like grandma.
If anything, I am more like grandma
for my thrifty ways and down-to-earth practicality.
Doris, nicnamed Dorie, how we tease her when we hear
her name like the name of the spaced-out fish on “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who we teased as a child because she always dawdled,
always losing track of time; we never could guess why!
In that way, she never was like me, but was more like Dory
from “Finding Nemo.”
Dorie, who like me, is long-nosed and full-bosomed
and of all my sisters, has the most in common with myself.
Dorie, who got confused for me, particularly by our grandma,
the woman after whom Dorie had been named!
Dorie, who got to be the cheerleader I failed to be
but who majored in my field and never got to work as a teacher.
Instead she works today in a place for special needs adults,
working many hours now that she is divorced.
Dedicated, hard-working, studious and conscientious -
in those ways Dorie is the most like me
of all my other sisters.
Who else but Dorie would write me back 40 to 50-page letters
back in the day when all we had was snail mail!
My letters to Dorie I copied off each month as a record
of my hectic life when I was young in college and
also when I was dealing with my new role as a mother.
Dorie, my writing soul mate sister, who probably
does not write much any more and I doubt that she writes poetry!
She is busy working up to 60 hours a week!
But when she writes, her emails are long and detailed
just like mine.
Dorie, in whom I gradually saw differences from me.
More emotional, more hormonal, more maternal -
this is Dorie. More religious and in politics,
the opposite of me.
Despite all that, we love to chat.
We laugh and laugh, as I do with all my other sisters.
Dorie, who like our youngest sister Theadora,
shares with me a fascination for things such as nutrition,
all three of us sharing with each other our recipes
fitness hints, and special ways to boost metabolism!
Dorie, the sister who Mom says "leapt with joy"
inside our mother’s womb right before Mom went into labor
just for hearing the voice of me, her oldest sister.
I love all my sisters equally, but for many reasons,
Dorie is the sister most like me!
March 6, 2019 for the "What's In a Name" Contest of Kim Rodrigues
Most of my classes suck (by that I mean they’re difficult). English is ok - especially the writing. I’d never want to major in English Literature though. It’s one of the hardest majors at Yale. It may be harder than Pre-med. They make it hard to discourage people from choosing it. If you don’t love literature, don’t live and breathe books and writing, you’ll *never* navigate the major.
Despite English being her third language, Leong is an excellent proofreader (which I need).
“Put an emoji in there,” Leong recommended, “it’ll show you’re chill and not panicking.”
“No emojis! I said, shocked, “This is supposed to be professional.” Still, every time I submit a draft the professor says it’s good (an “A”) and I’m done.
Sir Paul McCartney is at Yale today, talking about a book he wrote, I think. They’re piping his music all over campus. I don’t have time to see him, but his “Ram” album is one of my all-time favorites. I know people have their favorite Beatle, but I think Paul has, by far, the most lyrical solo career.
Lisa and I just arrived at the fitness center (in the residence basement) we’re the only three there. Peter (my BF) got there ahead of us, about 30 minutes ago. He’s been working out on one of the weight machines. He’s tall and fit, with black-almost blue hair and a new beard. Sweaty and shirtless, he’s a take-your-breath-away spectacle. The sight of him jangled up and down my libido. I felt myself groan inwardly. “Put on a shirt!” I said.
He comes over to where I’ve taken a seat. The sun is coming in at an angle which reveals that the air between us is filled with dust motes but now he looks like he’s a model standing in a spotlight. I just look at him and smile wickedly. “Why,” he says, getting very close.
“Because you’re distracting!” I answer laughing, as I push him away, “and I have a TON of reading to do.”
I like to read while I’m walking on the treadmill. He tries to nuzzle me as I step up. “Look,” I say, “If I can finish my reading (~200 pages) by dinner, I‘ll have something special for you.”
“Like what?” he asks, smiling and suddenly interested.
“Something for you to look back on when you’re a very old man.” I whisper.
“What are we standing around for?!” He demands, putting my chemistry book and water bottle on the treadmill and stepping away to slip on his t-shirt.
DANCE, DANCE, DANCE
What’s that?... You have two left feet.
We heard that many times.
Why just sit there and watch?
How can we change your mind?
Of course, nobody has two left feet.
What is so hard in moving your feet?
Left, right, left, right for the men,
right, left, right, left for the women.
Come on, it just like marching.
You should be dancing, yes!
If you have not done so, start now.
Dancing is the best exercise, it’s fun.
It involves body and mind.
Dancing moves your body.
It challenges your mind to learn
movements, steps or patterns.
It also encourages you to socialize
for it connects you to others.
Dancing makes you sweat
and helps you reduce weight
for it’s similar to cardio exercise;
but a more subtle form of exercise.
Dancing is gentle to your body,
yet, it enhances your motor fitness or mobility,
improves your balance, increases your flexibility
and you develop agility.
Dancing promotes stronger bones,
tones and strengthens your muscles,
aids your blood flow and circulation,
raises your endurance.
Dancing is good for your coordination,
your lungs, your heart, your emotion.
It gives you vibrancy and energy
as well as a better memory.
Dancing increases your cognitive performance
for you gain mental alertness.
It uplifts you and inspires you
to develop friendships.
Wouldn’t you rather be having fun dancing
than put your body through a rigorous exercise?
You attain the same physical benefits;
you also acquire cognitive benefits.
You should be dancing, dancing, yeah…
for it’s easier on your body and better for your mind.
11/1/20 Hm's And Na's October 2020 Constance La France
Impress Me With An Old Poem (002) Judged 10/16/20 Received: NA
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Especially with motivational bias
Intrinsic or decoherent formation
The access levels breach by human mass
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Is due the common bias that supports
Desire for all process automation
The physical the fitness is the sport
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Whether desires of others shall we satisfy
The mass affect on psyches with exemptions
The mechanism is probably WIFI
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Implies that humans are the chemical the mass
Because all these in Internet and politics “reactions”
TerminolOgy of the human this bias
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are differenciated between you and wild
And while is none the business yours is wild the nature
I am also one of you if I am filed
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between my file in organs and the me
Existed maybe be rather for the penetration
The very outdated is your C
So let's address ID of yours
They say when children are the young
They seek their own ID
Perhaps their souls and their minds
Won't really fall for category of the fashionable stan??
In search for their Ids
In time of war prepare for peace
In time of peace prepare for war
What are you really for?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Are fading as your prioritization are disproved
In seeking many ways for the monetization
Your whole existence is a giant unwanted spoof
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Between radar of military and the airplane
You reckon, buddy mine of the negation
That this particular the generalization
Would render system of your build as sane?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Of weird human groups who's eager to assist
Resistance is a trait of this negation
My human right is kinda to resist
The mechanism of seeking the connection
Draws value out of you as you degrade
The round is degree of the 360
How is this calvin would convert to centigrade?
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
The mechanism of seeking the connection
*organs are term in russian lingo for intelligence services, such as NSA in US, maybe because short for organization
Of all old friends, those we have of old are best;
These the souls we travel with by preference,
Theirs the spirits to whom we grant all deference.
Their hopes are ours, ours their own;
All victories shared, from like ambitions grown.
Their years match step with ours,
Show like passage of the hours,
Silent steps of Time with which our lives are sown.
They are moved as we are moved;
Troubled and pleased by like turns of Fate,
We pass through one another's gates
Into rooms where loyalty is proved
By ties of woven sympathies,
By bonds no outsider sees.
By bonds no outsider sees
We tie ourselves to those who share
The pithy heart of all unspoken cares,
The shadows that would dim our days
If no one shared our private ways,
If none there were to let us know
The fitness of the face we dare not show;
The old friend nods and quietly stays
Close by our side when mere acquaintance leaves,
Unashamed to share our darkest inner night;
Awaits with us the slow return of light.
The old friend trusts and faithfully believes
The tales we tell ourselves of joy or sorrow,
Looks to yesterday and forward to tomorrow.
Looking back to yesterday. forward to tomorrow,
We walk with them through the wilderness of living
Thankful for their presence and forgiving,
As do we, the flaws that mark our human bounds
Ignoring discordant notes that sound
From time to time in all the narrative
We build to define our days and give
Form and substance to the constant rounds
Of night to day and day to night,
Our mutual progress towards Eternity,
The approaching dark we do not wish to see
Unless in company with the comforting light
Of well-earned close companionship,
Of sympathetic souls who join us on the trip.
Seeking truths wherein the brave heart delves,
We guide each other through dwindling days
To face the world, to learn its ways,
Its cruelties and its beauties shared
Both the better for each time we dared
To question this, our common Lot:
To Be, awhile, and then to Not.
So we share all we have got
To fill our time, to weave our lives.
Without old friends, the path is drear and long,
Where goes but one to compose the song
To tell of what we were, and how we strived
To rescue Sense from Folly, all the rest;
Of all friends, those we have of old are best.
A Winner in 2017 OHANA Woman Div 1
There I was, on a rollercoaster of anxiety with many an anxious moment...
Each time my player dropped a set against each of her squash opponents...
In the Qfinals she suffered a 3rdset hiccup to a player junior in her years....
Dashing the high hopes that player could wrap up the game in 3 quick sets....
This rival is a fast improving hard hitting junior player, tricky as they all come...
With a superior fitness and combative attitude, she was a constant danger until the game was done...
Next in the semis was another junior, another fast and furious player...
Who won the 1st set easily to set the pace, upped the ante to pressure my squash player....
Somehow my favored one prevailed to counter her opponent's energetic play...
Refusing to be drawn into a chessplay with muscle and brawn and power play...
So she made it to the final, there awaits top seeded player, a former international...
Last year she easily outfoxed and outplayed my player 3-0 in that final...
But for this repeat final, my player started off well and lead by 2sets initially....
Before a 3rd set loss, it was obvious the top seed was exerting control gradually....
My player hopeful was flustered, faulting someone for advising her to vary her game..
I was busy recording, wise enough to let the cookies crumble as it may....
Just managed to warn her that her rival was picking up the pace....
And that a real winner of any squash player should play a thinking varied game...
Luckily she played decisively for a quick lead in the 4th game, raced to 4-0.....
There were some anxious moments as she easily lost a couple of points....
Anxiety was all mine even as my player managed to lead comfortably on points...
She had to do some desperate retrieving and gave away some stroke points...
But long story short, it was one big joyous relief when the game was finally over...
The 4th set was won over, the mission accomplished, what a great feeling all over....
When favored player emerged triumphantly as the winner when all was over...
http://www.tournamentsoftware.com/sport/tournament.aspx?id=5E4ABBEB-3744-4BAB-940C-598E71343CB6
Silly Sally sells books, this week there's a sale -
New titles each Friday; I go without fail.
This book took the do-it-yourselfers by storm:
"How To File Your Own Taxes" by May Linda Form.
If this one's available, I'm calling dibs:
"Let's Cook in the Backyard " by Barbie Q. Dribs.
If that one is sold out, this might fit the bill:
"The Perfect Hamburger" by Patty O'Grill.
If you don't have time for the whole book, just scan it:
"Naming Your Newspaper" by Dale E. Planet.
This one's selling out, be the first on your block:
"You Must Bring My Daughter Home" by Ada Clock.
One book I've been wanting I think really rocks:
It's called "Spooner's Footwear". It's by Susan Shocks.
You students may need this one for your next quiz:
"It's All About Nature" by Ollie G. Whiz.
And speaking of science, this one is debateable:
"Decomposing Organisms" by O. deGradable.
If you know a student, I'm sure they will love:
"Better Test Taking" by Olive D. Above.
At 70 cents, this old book is a cheapie:
"Hypnosis Tricks" by U. R. Barry Sleepy.
For those with a more Catholic upbringing:
"Be On Time For Church" by Isabel Ringing.
Need help thinking quicker? This one's on the button:
"Reacting in Crises" by Olive O'Sudden.
You could take this one on your longer vacations:
"Destroyer Warfare" by Mandy Battlestations.
To order this title, you may have to beg:
"My Very Small Breakfast" by I. Ada Negg.
I know of a fitness book you ought to buy:
"I'm Living Forever" by Dawn Wanda Dye.
This could be a best-seller, I have no doubt:
"It's None of Your Business, You Twit!" by Bud Out.
You may think these books are for real. If you do,
there's a nice bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you!
Recruit Division
I never applied to join the Army, a nice man phoned me,
He said I was the type they liked, with a steel certainty,
Plus he happened to mention the nurses on the way,
And the simple matter of doubling up my pay,
I signed.
So after having passed some sort of fitness tests,
I puffed quite a bit, but certainly tried my best,
I found myself, as many a medic knows,
To the town of Ash Vale, near a certain lady rose,
I’d signed.
Now as I walked, fashionable hair dishevelled,
There ahead of me, was a soldier whose back was upright and level,
So I called out, ‘Sorry to bother you mate, is the way for the Keogh camp gate’?
And the RSM made it very clear, that I would find it and him, certainly quite near,
Now I’d signed.
Within the breath of a watching gnats eye,
My hair was gone, no time to wonder why,
Everything seemed to happen with rapid and specific shouts,
Part of me was now wondering, a modicum of doubt,
Why I’d Signed?
Over the months to follow, each day a tired tomorrow,
I learnt about guns and bangs and running for fun,
Whilst far out on the expanse of the drill square,
A Russian yelled ‘Moy Et’ with a certain disposition,
Signing was my decision.
Now behind that drill square ran the main London line,
So we would be doing things, everything looking fine,
When the London train would pass, thundering on time,
And I tried not to grin at the phrase, ‘I left you in this position’,
Glad I signed.
I discovered a new world of dead fly biscuits,
Often so hungry the compo was worth risking it,
And how far a bed could fly, without seeming to try,
Or how proud I was as my bulled boots, not asking why,
I’d signed.
There was the nine second rule, certainly a gas,
Although they’d not mentioned they would take off the mask,
As each of us fit and healthy blokes,
Laid on the grass, throat burning chocked,
But I signed.
Finally a day arrived, escape from the camp,
Helping my granddad walk up the ramp,
Parents watched on as their son stood up,
Second best recruit, but no second cup,
Proud I’d signed.
Andrew Carnegie, Reminiscing Aldershot, 14th Jan 2017.