Long Flapped Poems
Long Flapped Poems. Below are the most popular long Flapped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flapped poems by poem length and keyword.
Butterfly…
I was in a cocoon dark and cold,
hallow from within silvery gold.
Walls of the darkness trapped my soul.
Wishing and hoping to find a hole.
I got the courage to break my mold,
when you take chances secrets unfold.
I broke the darkness, into the light;
the sweet pleasures of the life delight.
I drank the nectar and flaming dew.
Happy and drunken, my life renew.
I kissed the lips of a golden bud,
the meaning of love flooded my blood.
I flapped my wings of purple and blue,
danced with the wind, in garden, I knew.
Flew with love and a bundle of joy;
doing things that I always enjoy.
I heard a sound from a nearby room,
shouting at me you can only assume;
wake up and get up, morning has passed,
none of this nonsense ever will last.
11/2015 Haloo
Howard the mallard
A handsome young duck
Flew into a tree
Got his quacker stuck
Try as he might
He couldn't break free
His quacks for help
Were muffled you see
He flapped his wings
And thrashed his feet
A blackbird came by
With a worm in his beak
“Sure like to help”
He mumbled quite low
“But having my dinner
I'm sure it must show!”
Next came a rabbit
Wandering by
Something up high
In the tree caught his eye
“What's going on?”
He queried the duck
Who struggled to answer
Of course with no luck
“I'd help you, dear mallard
but rabbits don't climb!”
Then a stork appeared
“I'll help you!” he chimed
His legs were long
He reached up to Howard
Gave him a whack
He wasn't a coward
Howard came free
And noticed the stork
Had been carrying something
A wee thing of sorts
Suddenly he realized
What storky was carrying
A pleasant surprise
A baby duck in a sling
It was Howard's, new baby
A duckling named Herbert
After seeing this treasure
Forgot about his hurt!
(a repeat)
The missionary had a cat, which travelled in the hold
That missionary sat beside a lady with a cold
She had a pointed hat and sneezed when they were due to land
Her book of spells flipped open and then things got out of hand…
In the hold where creatures were returning to the wild
The beasts all got mixed up, and then a Tigerilla smiled
From his tank the ugly fish crash landed with a splat
And then he saw the open door and flipped and flopped to that
The fish flapped all around; his bid, to find the Amazon
But everywhere he looked he found the Amazon was gone
He couldn’t know the plane had landed elsewhere on its way
And when he found a water hole he said a quick, “Hooray”
The missionary’s cat said, “Wow, that pool’s a lucky find,
But watch out for the hippo with his really huge behind,
And also, what is lucky, is we haven't mixed together,
Like all those other creatures which are now as one forever.”
The ugly fish leapt in the pool, with just his head still out
He said, “I’m a piranha, I eat anything about.”
I guess, Dear reader, that I have no need to tell you that
What this fish had for dinner… was the missionary’s cat
There was a tremble in the ground, a sparkle in the air
And suddenly there was no cat and no piranha there
What there was was crazy, it had fins and it had fur
And anyone around would swear they heard the damned thing purr
So now we find another creature, mixed up by a spell
A creature that might just come crawling from your water well
Is it a fish, is it a cat and does it matter that
It’s a creature that might leave a shin bone on your mat
Of course, in science, every single thing must have a name
And Mister Missionary seemed to have no sense of shame
Maybe he was sidetracked as he nibbled a banana
But it was he that came up with a name for it… Purr-anha
So if you’re walking late one night and hear some tyres squeal
Is it a hedgehog in the road or something more surreal
But let me reassure you it wont be a cat with fins
And it wont be a fish that creeps up close to bite your shins
For this is the Purr-anha and the jungle is its home
Until it learns to fly a plane it isn’t free to roam
So in the jungle there’s a fish with claws and it seems tough
That we once thought a fish with razor teeth was bad enough
Blithesome Ballerina
The braided, lithe, ten year old ballerina,
Stepped out into her huge, beautiful yard.
Ah~ That delicious scent of a Midwest spring!
Running barefoot on the green, moist, loving
morning shards of grass.
Her delicate, long pink ballet costume,
With pink leather ballet shoes, that so divinely matched.
The golden butterflies flapped their joyous wings,
The chorus of a joyous bird orchestra chirped for her.
The huge floral bushes scented God's most perfect,
Freshest dawn air.
Across decades of time, how she wants to reach back,
To pirorette-dream into her floral yesterdays.
If only...to inhale those delicate bouquets.
And with a graceful, ballet curtsey, to a honor a morning in May!
May 4, 2020
2:30pm PST
In a world twice-walled, of crystal clear,
A space unseen, a prison of fear.
Between two panes, a fly, held fast,
No egg was laid, no shadow cast.
A sudden blink, from there to here,
A puzzle spawned, to quell the tear.
Why was he placed in this glass tomb?
A silent jest, a sunlit room.
The panes so close, a breath away,
Where heat would build throughout the day.
The air grew thick, the world compressed,
A tiny heart beat in its chest.
A wave of fear, a buzzing dread,
Trapped in a space for what was dead.
But in that fear, a spark took hold,
A story waiting to be told.
For he was not some common drone,
On legendary wings he'd flown.
A legacy of grit and might,
Who turned from darkness to the light.
"I can do all," the thought took flight,
"And conquer this eternal light!"
This glassy cage would not decide,
The fate of one with so much pride.
An engine roared within his soul,
To make his fractured body whole.
The escape began, a frantic beat,
Wings flapped to an impossible feat.
A thousand times the normal pace,
He'd drill himself from this dreadful place.
Like corkscrew turning, sharp and fast,
A future from a painful past.
He put his head against the pane,
And pushed away the numbing pain.
His legs tucked in, a living drill,
He'd bend the glass to his own will.
A scraping sound, a tiny groove,
A body spinning, on the move.
Slowing cutting, grain by grain,
Ignoring all the dizzying strain.
Whip! It splintered. The glass gave in,
To let the outer world begin.
A twisting heat, a focused mind,
He left the airless tomb behind.
He drove his weight against the rift,
A frantic, final, upward lift.
With ancient strength, a sudden shove,
Cast from the dark by light and love.
He was out! The world a blur,
A dizzy, disoriented whir.
He couldn't stop, the spin and dive,
Just trying to remain alive.
He slowed and slowed, the spin decreased,
His frantic, panicked mind released.
He fought to gather all his sense,
And break the hold of the intense.
At last, the world came into view,
A place to land, somewhere brand new.
He found a perch, a simple spot,
To ponder the great fight he'd fought.
A hero fly, who broke the glass,
And let the final moment pass.
for the third class life is surrounded by, not a single affirmative element but utter negativity, it may be a condemned one, yet is still worthwhile living the life because in the total negativity one can disavow everything just like an absolute authority
for the third-rater is always treated by those around one with contempt, the life may be miserable, yet is enjoyable because the anger i swallowed in every moment of my life and kept in the depth of my heart with tears can be spewed out at any time, in anywhere, just like a most powerful tyrant
to impress others, may be impossible, i flapped the wings that actually i didn’t possess; the beauty of life was then however, it doesn’t matter if i was a performer of first class theatre or of third. even with those inexistent wings, i was able to fly boastfully in the spotlight dazzling colorful air though for a little while
although i searched for a way to wonderland and went after a good and ripened time for harvest, the soul rent with grief and mortified, alas, i was always wound-up to standing in the damned same starting point because no matter
how hard i searched, the way to wonderland was nowhere on earth it never
existed for me, no matter how eagerly i went after it, the ripened good time was never there for me to harvest; nonetheless, even with deeply wounded heart, i was able to find the moment of peace at the point where i started off was, may be my numbed sensitivity, caused from the debt too great for me to pay off, caused from the destitution never be filled to flee from it
“why don’t you laugh at this ludicrous fool’s tears?” the fool being ousted from even this filthy third class theatre which was filled with rowdy audiences! “why don’t you cry for this helpless buffoon’s laughter?” mimicking Caesar with antic,
‘et tu, Brute!’*
even in this crucial moment
of losing my one and only vocation the buffoon ever had
*William Shakespeare. Julius Caesar, Act III, Scene 1. ‘You too, Brutus!’
Sammy the spider built his web up high
And patiently waited for his meal to drop in
Then Barry butterfly came fluttering by
Said he to the spider with a grin
"The web you have built is as nice as can be
But Mr Spider, you'll never catch me"
"We'll see about that" the spider replied
"Keep on wishing" answered the butterfly
He taunted the spider each day he came by
"Perhaps he is right" Sammy thought with a sigh
Then one day as he was teasing poor Sammy
A gust of wind blew him into the web
He flapped his wings and struggled to get free
But he quickly tired and the spider moved in
Said he to the spider: "Please Mr Spider, please don't eat me"
"I'll never tease you again, please set me free"
Sammy replied; "The web I have built is as nice as can be
Now you will find that I can sting like a bee"
----
The moral of this fable is:
Be careful what you say, your boastful words can
come back to haunt you, and put you at the mercy of your enemy.
There was a firefly who had lost her fire--
How it did happen, no one quite knew why.
She looked in trees, under rocks, and briar
But couldn’t find it, she started to cry:
“Oh, dear, what’s a firefly without her fire?”
She gasped and sobbed and sadly spoke in sighs.
“How shameful, I’d sooner live in the mire,”
Said she, poor thing, with sorrow in her eyes.
The firefly flew away to hide in shame,
Still grieving over the loss of her fire.
She couldn’t join in any fireflies’ game
Or sing with others in their nightly choir.
After some time a good fairy came by
And saw the firefly who was desolate.
The poor firefly blushed for she felt so shy
At being seen in a pitiful state.
This fairy in the past had lost her way
And it’s the same firefly who had helped her.
At first the two didn’t know what to say
Till they remembered and hugged each other.
The firefly spoke about her misfortune
While the fairy did more than sympathize:
She flapped her four wings, did a little croon,
And gave the firefly a well-deserved prize.
The firefly felt the fire within her grow
Until it sent off long, bright, and warm rays.
The whole place shone with the light from her glow
That reached dark corners with a dazzling blaze.
“That’s for helping me find my way before,”
Said the good fairy as they parted ways.
The firefly said, “Thanks!” and hugged her once more--
And she lived content the rest of her days.
March 29, 2023
Among 1st Place
Write a Sweet Fairytale for Children with a Good Ending Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
Some days, I suffer enraptured
No scornful arrow can reach so high
Flappy angels think me a spy
For what reason, why?
Is it wrong to be this happy before I die
Or should I just watch life pass me by
Too deliriously sad to offer a smile?
They just flapped and stared a while
Unable to reconcile
Then flew away
With aught more to say
But now I'm sad
And sinking fast
And maybe even a bit mad
That angels, or anyone, could think that way
And how I let them ruin my day:
Giving their flappy opinions-
Too much sway
Oh, well-
At least I've shattered dreams-
And bills to pay!
What was I so happy for anyway?!
I've got a headache
I think I'll find a place to lay
Or go jump in a lake
I bet those flappy wings were fake
And those halos: wire and 'Papier-Mâché'
Waking up from a sound sleep
I felt unusually light
Wasn’t sure what had come about
But was shocked at the eerie sight
In the place of my hands
Had sprouted a pair of wings
My mouth had pointed and curved like a beak
Words came out like twittering songs
My long and flabby legs
Had turned into wire like sticks with paws
And my toes shaped into
Sharp pointed claws
A tail had been fitted upon my back
I was covered in a plumage of brown
My body had thinned and turned so light
And on my head I had a black fringed golden crown
Feeling a strange urge to fly,
I flapped my wings and threw myself into the air
But I had a nose-dive into the woods below
Never knew flying was like playing with fire
Luckily I could perch on the branch of a tree
Looking around I saw a parrot green
He said he would teach me to fly
He was at rest behind the foliage screen
He said ‘Hop.. hop from branch to branch
One step at a time will take you miles along’
One full day, religiously hopped the way I was told
The next day as I flew in rounds, he came along
Abruptly he announced, looking into the blue sky
“Oh come! On wings of joy, we’ll fly
Let us flit over hills and skim over dales”
“Tuwee! Tuwee”, in shrill delight, we flew across the sky
June.10. 2022
Flight Two Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke