Long Flakes Poems
Long Flakes Poems. Below are the most popular long Flakes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flakes poems by poem length and keyword.
Hold my hand — it is the truest thing I have in this night of crystal,
the road unwinds before us like a ribbon of smoke and burning coal;
I do not know where we are going — and that is exactly why the leaving is clean —
my consciousness ran through the asphalt like living water, unquestioned.
Far away is a place so far that pain forgets it ever knew you,
comparable to a desert where the rain comes once in a thousand years;
there the stones are warm and no one asks you to account for anything —
and if you want — we go farther still — until the sky turns small.
It is good to carry a lost love like a frame with no face inside it,
it is good not to turn back — no one is calling you back — not even your shadow;
beginnings are white pages cut from the chest of a morning —
we will rest there for a lifetime — or only a moment between lifetimes.
We make no plans — plans are shards of moon that never arrive,
we rise out of the sheets as out of a sleep made of amber and earth;
the engine howls smoothly in the night, like a gentle animal that knows us —
and the night stays behind us — a stain of whisper — and is born again.
The sun climbs and strikes your eyelids with big flakes of warm light,
you have forgotten what a day looks like that asks nothing, that only bathes you;
the light chisels you like a statue of dew and of wind —
and I watch you — and I ask nothing — and I am silent — and I am yours.
We are going nowhere — and nowhere is the most beautiful place in the world right now,
because nowhere is no one waiting for us, and no one asks us for a road;
hold my hand — not as a promise — but as a thing that simply is —
and if the world burns behind us, we burn forward — you and I — and SHE.
It was a miserable sultry day
Humidity hung like lemons on trees
heavy air filled my lungs
beads of sweat clung to my skin
this heat was difficult to bear
and stifling to try to breathe
I wanted to be relieved and wished
for a cooling summer breeze
I felt a sudden chill later that day
a drafty wind as he walked by
He moved in a brisk pace
but I glimpsed the furrow of his brow
Sweeping winds of change were written
in frosted crystals on his callous face
Without so much as a whisper
the temperature dipped in my heart
If this is how the cool winds blow
I'd prefer the spike of Summer heat
over his glacial attitude and aloof demeaner
From my eyes... fell flakes of Winter snow
I could not read what was in his eyes
They were clouded window panes
I can't even begin to surmise
what brought on the change in him
My lips turned blue as the ill wind blew
until it penetrated my soul
His looks were blocks of ice. He built a wall
I kept climbing it until my pulse grew weak
and then I'd tumble and fall
North winds had a strong hold on him
I couldn't melt his frozen heart
and mine was dying from lack of warmth
I took flight to save my life on a frigid night
: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . :
September 1st, 2017
I’m not certain when it happens.
When the high fidelity stereo of a youthful past
Drowns in the monophonic static of tomorrow’s responsibilities.
When cowboys and indians or cops and robbers
Become traffic tickets and the politically correct, Native Americans.
When the king of the castle ends up under a mortgage and tax escrow
Owned by bank and government alike for standing strong on a playground boulder.
When the real fear of catching cooties from the girls at recess
Gives way to the real fear of catching cooties from girls in your bedroom.
But it invariably does.
You wake up and notice something interesting about mirrors.
Your reflection isn’t there anymore.
That person doesn’t know that fruity pebbles taste better than bran flakes.
That pens and pencils are made for drawing, not writing checks.
And crayons are better still.
That person has forgotten that mornings are to be celebrated
And bedtime is another way of spelling tantrum time.
That person is a grown up.
And certainly, that person isn’t you.
Are they?
04/24/15
3 cups shredded chicken ( optional)
1 guart of chicken feet broth( optional)
Or
3 cups of shredded pork
1 quart of pigfeet broth
(Or combine)
,1 quart of veggie broth
2 cups of sauteed onion
2 cups of roasted red pepper
1/4 cup of sauteed celery
6 minced cloves of garlic
1 sprig of thyme
1/2 chopped sun dried tomatoes
1 cup of chopped portabella
Thicken broth and add ingredients
4 cups of shredded fried cabbage
1/4 cup of sliced carrots
1/3 cup of green onion
Sesame seeds toast 2 tablespoons
2 tablespoons of fish stock
3 tablespoons of sugar
4 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/4 of dehydrated onion
3 tablespoons of lemon juice
3 tablespoons of lemongrass
2 tablespoons of cayenne
4 tablespoons of coconut shredded
Soy sauce
1/4 cup of chopped turkey bacon
5 tablespoons of minced shrimp (optional)
Egg roll wrappers
Veggie oil for frying
12 cups of cooked rice
As a side garnish shred two cup of
Cucumber
1 cup of shredded apples ( with pork)
Toss in lemon juice and olive oil (1/4 cup each)
4 cups of chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons of garlic powder
2 tablespoons of Red pepper flakes
2/3 of French fried onions
Crush in a ziplock bag
Toss together and
Rice in the bowl
Soup on top
Eggrolls sliced stop soup
Garnish on top
It’s now dawn and the sky is ocean blue
Bringing to mind a poet who is so true
Writing with pen and ink in every round
With a Christmas name as Carol Brown
Around the corner moving in a rush
Teaching away with her poetic thrust
There in the flakes was Tamiviolet
Words flowing like a story booklet
On a platform was Vince Suzadail
Being hailed by many for setting a trail
Out came the sun with Jean Marchese
Painting picture so cool and breezy
Feet getting weary there was Karen O’Leary
So cheery while reciting a poetic theory
Wearing fancy socks was James Baylock
Standing on a rock just teaching his flock
Heading home for warmth of the fireplace
Thinking of the next journey I will face
Do I hear jingles and slay bells in the air?
Oh my, it’s my friend Santa we are a pair!
Merry Christmas!
Comments: I was tagged by Kathy, and as a result I have to pass the tag along.
I have randomly tagged the first six poets in my head. I really enjoy reading their
poetry. Now, they can tag other poets they enjoy reading. Have a great day!
a September preview
snowberries sunbathing..
a late... peepshow
shades of shadowing fall
sun ,highlights the pampas grass-
rose hips ripening
neath the chestnut tree
flakes of green cover this scene-
autumn blankets me
NOTE:
why hiku ?
HAIKU the ' phonetical&cultural original 'in Japanese'
whereas HIKU
is the English language version(including translations)with similar economy of words without "telling all" thereby to ' show ' (conforming to the key to true imagist poetry),&to avoid 'as'&'to' & the use of past tense verbs (often without verbs,adverbs,adjectives )A verse freed from syllabic constraint within its triplicity of format& inherently enigmatic & still with a caesura and surprise ending
As autumn's breeze prepares for fall's return,
tho still some summer warmth may overflow,
the shortening of days signals the turn
to think about that season's golden glow.
October stirs her brilliant autumn blend
of colored leaves that fall and drift away.
Her cold, crisp air embraces to befriend,
and we're aware that fall is here to stay.
November days deliver winter's prize,
and soon, when we awake on colder days,
we know that fall is sending last goodbyes
as snowy days ahead prepare displays.
December comes with heavy winter skies;
full winter now to bloom as days proceed,
with snow-filled days, a time that soon implies
we turn our minds to wintertime full speed.
Jack Frost will visit with his flakes of snow,
perhaps a blizzard, crystals on the trees;
ice skating on the frozen pond will show
full winter now is born from autumn's breeze.
August 23, 2016
Snow Globe Memories – Mystic
As my wrinkled old hands grasp the glass ball,
I watch as the glistening snowflakes begin to fall.
I gaze into it and give it one last shake.
There’ll be no room for all I was hoping to take.
My heart strokes the strings of memories, sublime.
This little snow globe has stood the test of time.
I watch the soft flakes settle on an old oak tree.
Alpine trees echo enticing chants, beckoning me.
I was bound for paradise, such a splendid upward climb.
The alps bringing peace, when church bells chime.
My wanderlust cured, no more would I roam.
Such amazing years I have spent in my mountain home.
Lost in the vision of my little snow globe here today.
As the last of the snow has settled, I really want to stay.
Along with some other treasures, I pack it in my port.
My love of this home just couldn’t be bought.
I wonder if there’s a snow globe that depicts where I am going.
I’ll miss my lovely chalet especially when it’s snowing.
I’ll keep my wee globe with its snow falling under the dome,
and I’ll take the snow in my glass ball to the old age home.
The squirrels are dashing here and there.
desperately filling winter larders.
They are still crazy for nuts, after all these years.
Autumn spurs the living and is a rest-home for the dying
it brings in new snow from the high hills
and turns flakes into cold raindrops.
The wind whinnies like a small wild pony.
Marginal changes happen
within a fluid hinterland.
Eyes get wider, feet heavier.
Kids get louder, expecting
God knows what.
Honey and tea for allergies
and sniffles.
The elderly
just sweep stiff crackling leaves
off their heads and shoulders
while asking the stars
for one last dance.
Joining In the Christmas Spirit
Christmas songs of joy and laughter to be heard
Heard inside people’s loving warm homes of Joy
Joy to join the holiday spirit, but I'm out here tired
Here tired of seeing the snow fall and being alone
Being alone outside in crystalline white snow
Snow path of wet snow flakes from the rising sun rays
Rays melting the deep white snow that glimmers
Glimmers of diamonds, silver tinsel, and green wreaths
Wreaths I wear decorated with ribbons and lights
Lights aglow, tree bought with perched red robins
Robins gather on branches flew me inside
Inside where children at play and I can be
Be a Snowman Christmas tree in a rightful place
Place to see everyone uplifting cheerful warm smiles
Smiles of joy when wishful gifts they open
Open with holiday spirit on Christmas day
12/1/2015
Chain Verse 1 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ebbs