Long Flap Poems
Long Flap Poems. Below are the most popular long Flap by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flap poems by poem length and keyword.
He circles around this rustic boat launch,
the locals know he nests in the pine trees,
fish bone at the base tell of his last lunch,
these birds like water, big lakes and sea.
White heads draw the eye, even if far off,
it’s clear why most men think them majestic,
he looks better still plunging for the waves,
into a trout yellow talons now rip.
Some folks snap photos from this rocky beach,
zoom in on fledglings with thin mottled heads,
they flap wings to fly, but it’s still a reach,
so they just hop back to their nesting bed,
it will be some months before they’re ready
to soar on the thermals, strong and steady.
Decadent perimeter a decorous
tray doth betray
Polished cart a nubile mask doth
display
From black, coiffed locks baited line
doth sway
From slippery, glossed lips a sweet
nectar doth spray
In dark corner, sleek, painted lashes
lustily fray
On cheeks, hearty splotch of rouge,
as sparkling rubies arrayed
Powdered, satin neck a smooth,
silky route doth relay
Below, a swinging gait with nimble
legs that teasingly play
While regal, surface stream my
passions do tap
My mind longs heart's deep
reservoir uncap
The silted mine's exterior allures
with its glittering scrap
But I long the buried riches of soul's
deep crevasses to unwrap
The tender juices from heated lips
flow like sap
But my burning desire is to
navigate heart's ventilated gap
Your soft, rhythmic words my
beating pulse doth clap
But would much rather your
subconscious strings map
Per chance reason's melded door
doth flap
Thereon, lust's sensuous screen
we'll strap
Go out and reach the sky~
let your wings flap and fly high,
soar in the clouds and ride the rainbow,
but remember not to touch the sun.
Walk barefooted and explore the fields ~
dance with the bees and the butterflies
sway with the blooms~ sing with the birds!
but never pluck the petals nor capture tiny creatures.
Climb the mountains and keep ascending~
But remember no matter how high
your feet still mounted on the ground;
Keep your ideals high but your spirit nigh.
Fall in love- get enchanted in a dream~
But never break a sterling heart,
nor you attempt to bring to eyes a tear,
for it has the power to sink a ship.
Walk on, walk slowly~
Remember you are just a traveller
and the roads ahead are yet unseen;
Handle yourself with fervent prayers
for bridges are sometimes fragile.
Walk on, walk slowly~
Stop and pause at every crossroad;
Each turning point, each bend and curb
will only be travelled but once~
Walk on, walk slowly.
December 12, 2020
For "Your Advice To The Youth Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh
2nd place
Entered for "All Yours (May 18) Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by Brian Strand
I have no theme, no muse, no just cause or aim.
Untouched by reason, no spark nor any flame.
Yet still the words flow, kindled all the same,
By the sheer love of words and the games they play.
My poet's head is full of words churning within,
With magnetic attraction for their next of kin,
Words that describe images, thoughts, sounds therein,
It's a noble cause, just because a story must begin.
It's not just the lovey-dovey smoochy stuff,
But words that clash, jog and jangle, huff and puff,
Words that trawl up memories and a serendipitous bluff,
Words that inspire a just cause in readers is just enough.
I wash, rinse, and recycle what pops into my head,
Creating a riddle, jingle, jangle and rhyme bedspread,
That's washed, spun, and hung out to dry once it's said,
To flap, taunt and jangle readers passing-by my spread.
A Futile Death by Wilma Neels
Flying over the place that use to be my home
I’m glancing at the once blue green seascape
Transformed to a murky coal black scene
A faucet has been opened
When everything went up in flames
Amidst all the confusion
I lost everything I loved
Flying over, a silent prayer is prayed
Please keep them safe
Please close the hole
This is the only home we know,
As I sit on a rock
The sadness overwhelms me,
As my sister slips away
She has lost the battle
The oil slick has gone thicker
It’s gaining power with every hour
I pray dear Lord of heaven and earth
May her final breath not be in vain
I flap my wings in a silent salute
Farewell dear sister, you will be missed
May this be the last time,
I witness such ugliness…
Written: 24 June 2010
Contest: Why oh Why?
Sponsored by: Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Down in the crypt where the caskets lie
And dust stirs up when trucks go by
Giggling sounds, not moans and groans
From the tomb of Skelton Bones
When the trucks go by no more
No light peeks beneath the door
Bony feet on an ice cold floor
Skelton Bones inspects his claw
Skelton Bones was a pirate, old
Sailed the seas in search of gold
His right hand by a dragon took
Now its claw is Skelton’s hook
Once, he’d dressed in silk and cotton
Skelton’s clothes are long since rotten
All that’s left, a belt and buckle
And his hat which makes him chuckle
He’s Skelton Bones; a pirate, nude
But not intentionally rude
He says, “Ahoy!” in pirate tones
That’s the sound of Skelton Bones
But now he has a yen to be
Once more sailing ’pon the sea
Been too long; three hundred years
Skelton calls his buccaneers
When the door creaks open wide
Ghostly pirates lurk outside
But with no seas to sail nearby
Skelton’s ship takes to the sky
Hear that Jolly Roger flap?
Or the canon hatches clap?
Keep a firm hand on your riches
Or he’ll steal them… and your britches
And as he rides the clouds and skies
A crew, undead, that never dies
In Skelton’s wake the east wind wails
It’s in his bones and in his sails
A door made from the haphazard weaving
of wood, rust, and ivy.
Smudged newspapers flap wings
in a heaving wind. Drowned birds
emerge from wet print. Barren condoms
spill to feed the mouths of empty cans.
The garden has no house.
Rubble and verge limn a floor-plan.
Weeds grapple, roots maul concrete.
Black bags regurgitate
bacon rinds.
A boy's found-treasure: a nickel can-opener,
a pen with a lady, whose clothes fall off
when turned upside-down,
a chewed Superman doll.
That night his closed eyes
fly over the city with a half-naked lady.
while a can-opener
slowly opens up adulthood.
You know how a cat is? The way it awakes,
how its eyes open, for a moment
not seeing anything,
how it blinks slowly
eyelids washing a mind
of anything but satisfaction.
Legs stiffen, stretching out,
paws opening and closing
as it arches its back.
Lithe sinews ripple under a velvet pelt,
its whole body a rubber band of pleasure.
I used to wake like that - almost.
This sleek, self-absorbed feline
who owes me at least
some cursory acknowledgment,
just slinks away without a glance
as I struggle to disentangle
my creaking form from jumbled bed covers.
It has prowled through the cat flap
probably stalking garden sparrows by now.
I make coffee
once more vowing to get myself a dog -
an old one.
Quarter moon - so way up high
In darkened blue - in morning sky
It makes me think - when I see blue
Thoughts of you - how do...you do
Before the sun - lifts up her nose
And the stars still wink - and the moon still glows
I close my eyes - and I think my mind
Searching for - the thoughts to find
That shows my heart - that shows my love
From that quarter moon- so high above
To keep it's glow - on you, my friends
Even by chance - your life, it ends
By chance, I'm gone - I flap my wings
I hope the quarter moon - it still brings
To all my friends - a glowing light
To makes your lives - a brighter bright
Canada Jays
Four seasons ‘round, Canada jays are found,
Perched in tree branches, safe and sound,
Resting after flying throughout the North,
In the Canadian boreal forests.
Heard and not seen unless it’s their intention
To disturb the silence, making known their presence
By confronting intruders in the area
With shrill barking, expressing displeasure.
Their shaded greys of feathery plumage bests
Darker on the back, with lighter puffed breasts.
On a round head adorns a snow-capped crown,
Endowed with dark eyes and a sharp, short, pointed bill.
They have feet equipped with talons to grip the limb tight,
While long, white-tipped tail feathers fan in flight,
Which serves the robin-sized creature well in this climate
And adapts the songbird to its environment.
Then, it’s off scavenging, preparing for winter
In territories established by mating pairs,
Who swish food in their mouths to coat it with saliva,
Ensuring successful seasonal survival
By hiding the sticky boluses in trees
And memorizing the local scenery,
As marauding eyes spy on the jays’ commotions
To steal morsels from the clandestine caches.
During cold weather, they fluff up their feathers
To stay warm and hide their feet from exposure
And twist their necks to tuck in their beaks
Under the wing flap joint to maintain body heat.
Sometimes, they snuggle for companionship
And share warmth during winter hardships.
The birds, confirming whispers to their mate for life,
Find comfort in their labours, making it worthwhile.
In early spring, when the air is cold and the snow deep,
The male selects the south side of the tree for a nest site for the sun’s heat,
Building the nest with dead twigs, bark strips, and lichens,
With caterpillar cocoons for reinforcement.
The cup is feather-lined for the female to lay,
Who does not leave the clutch until the eggs are hatched.
The male feeds her throughout the incubation period,
Then she joins him in the raising of their offspring.