Long Flapping Poems
Long Flapping Poems. Below are the most popular long Flapping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flapping poems by poem length and keyword.
I thought poetry is
-name of Mesopotamia which was the first civilization to emerge in human history
-ancient cave peoples surviving life struggle
I thought poetry is
-an immortal love story of Yousuf- Zulekha, Shirin-Farhad, Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet
-a telephonic or open love conversation of smiling postmodern girls
-drying wet colorful clothes of beloved in the courtyard of the house
-haring of beloved with tuberose garland before a mirror
I thought poetry is
-lizards chirping from the deserted house; cockroach flying
-quarrelsome cats in the black dark or barking dogs
-the struggle of mosquito for human blood
-traveling of the arrogant indecent animals all over the night
I thought poetry is
-thrilling venturous ghostly stories of J. K. Rowling
-self-expression of known-unknown writers
-unspoken tale of a war-wounded soldier
-the regret of the thousands of dead soldiers
-the unwritten fantasy of an isolated poet
-the lonely guitar or ektara of dead singers
I thought poetry is
-without reel tie an independent flying of a kite in the sky
-in the blue sky sovereign flapping of birds
-movement of invisible winds everywhere
-hearing story of fairytale crossing of green forest
I thought poetry is
-handmade airing of newly married girl to a new groom in lunch time
-dyed hands of nubile girls by mehndi,
-captivating sounds of jingling anklet and kamarband of dancing damsels
I thought poetry is
-classic music of Pandit Ravi Shankar
-immortal tune of Ustad Bismillah Khan's shehnai
-compilation of humanitarian lyrics of the legend Bob Marley
-heart touching reciting of the Holy Quran of Qari Abdul Basit
I thought poetry is
-unforgettable philosophical discussion of Socrates with his disciples
-the philosophic lineage of learning such as Socrates-Plato-Aristotle
-immortal scientific creations of Newton, Galileo, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, Hawking
I thought poetry is
-unremitting prayer or worship of any prevailed religion devotee to get heaven
-inhuman history of bombing on the Hiroshima and Nagasaki or brutality of 1st or 2nd World War
These all are just my thinking,
my thinking is free
on my path
but poetry is poetry,
more than any thinking, many more;
on its path
Poetry is independent fully
-June 27, 2019 Chattogram
How brittle can the ruin of this heart slay
Like furrowed weeds burned into cinder ,
When church's flowers turn ebon and droop
As winds do not return... nothing moves
Not even air- chimes in their hazy curves:
*
I watch my own body... it becomes a stranger Melting like an anonymous outline
That enters the dark through crushed wails...
He is nowhere , not even a shadow flapping
While a eulogy of abandonment goes unsung, *
*
My fingers quiver in front of an altar…
pain grating the most benevolent
of prayers , chafed by slices of eve
that have no syllables for me…
For on this day, a deserted betrothal
leaves me hanging , hanging on a choir's loft.
And night breezes wash over me vanishing,
That I gaze at my bridal bouquet slowly astir...
A shattered vow, a runaway groom
Cry I must, in solo of dreaded season,
Waiting for hushabye to put me to sleep.
Flying, jumping from this bough to the bough
Chirping sharp, calling the friends over slough
The foggy smokes are walking away slowly
For the adult winter the rising sun is mossy
The sparrow couple is sipping from bean flowers
Over the plums there are dancing the warblers
Twittering songs enchant the pink rosy fragrance
With flapping wings the butterflies on buds trance
Thru the window glass the sunny ray is peeping
One cup of espresso is fixing my eyes to the link
To natural canvas my darling becomes obsessive
With these pleasure my soul in poetic verse trip
Nature is ever alive; nature is divine, true beauty
Where the chirping birds is the music of divinity
February 06, 2023
A Simple Pleasure Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Delighted by birds’ coloring books
Awed with stories on biblical fowls of the air…
There’s my special child, unperturbed
Eyes glued to a science book he’s trying to comprehend.
In a guessing game,
He’s asked: “What birds are these?
Identify using these clues:
Indeed faithful to mate for life;
male is called a cob,
female partner’s name is pen;
they have a baby cygnet...
As God’s creatures,
they are highly intelligent
and remember who has been kind to them.”
Suddenly... “Swans,” he shouted with glee
Midst his spastic flapping gestures.
In exhilarating triumph
we all bask in his lingering swan-chorus:
"Who made all the swans so beautiful...
God* in heaven above."
*Isaiah 43:15 I am the LORD, your Holy One, the creator..., your King.
April 17, 2019
9th place, "Suddenly Swans" Premier Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy; judged on 4/26/2019.
Bird, butterfly and bee
Fluttering from tree to tree
Whispering to you and me
About how good it is to be free
Flapping gentle wing
They almost seem to sing
Laughing through the spring
Lighting up hearts with a zing
Bird, butterfly and bee
Coloring the air full of glee
Happy friends, all the three
Loving and kind, they will be
Waving joyfully, they soar
Bright coats they all adore
Flying from shore to shore
With bliss you cannot ignore
Bird, butterfly and bee
Some a him and some a she
Going on a fun, jolly spree
Captivating from sea to sea
Beautiful beyond all thought
Awakening hearts as they ought
With flowers they have bought
Through pollinating seeds caught
Bird, butterfly and bee
As gentle as the sweet pea
Charming and so very carefree
They bring joy I’m sure you’ll agree
Nursery Rhyme 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Eve Roper
April 10, 2021
JUST A MOMENT
Happy grasshopper
flapping four translucent wings
hopping on grass blooms.
Wild weeds and feral grasses
on thorny field welcomed fly.
Tiny grassy buds
and flowers erected heads.
Frolic grasshopper
freely flying touching grass blades.
It chose top of grass to sit.
Oh! Just a moment!
A flying bird appeared swift,
catching grasshopper,
on strong bite with its sharp beak
and sat on branch of a tree..
07/27/20
'just A Moment' Contest by John Lawless
THERE'S NOWT ON OUR HERM
There's a naked heathen godlet
that lodges in our hall;
one leg of his is cocked up in the air.
Does that finger pointing upwards,
on which we hang the keys,
import some noble thought, some lofty theme?
If not, one asks, how should it be construed?
Maybe it's just another case
when all that can be said is.
'If it weren't for art,
you'd call the thing damn rude.'
Then he wears a warden's helmet,
except that it's got wings
and wings he's got a-flapping at the heel.
Considering aeronautics,
I doubt he'd pass the test,
but there's a thought that never bothers Herm.
He bears a funny wand
round which snakes entwine their coils
in a way that real snakes never seem to do.
Don't ask me why they're there,
or why he walks on air.
He's a god, yes, he's a god,
and there's an end.
Flying as lively butterflies,
finding new surprises:
down-hill or up-hill...
not feeling the October chill!
Soul lighter than the Autumn air
floats to undiscovered places,
and while the skies are fair...
much is seen from these shades!
Stress is left behind a locked door,
blood flows as a river to a delta or shore...
the happy heart-beat is a steady drum
that feels thrills until it reaches home!
Flying as lively butterflies, flapping long and delicate wings,
free and unconfined by inner feelings...
the heart is a kid who loves to explore,
to deepen his/her sense of awareness that's everywhere!
DREAMING ON A FLYING BED
One night I found the old bed I sleep on
Got tired of confinement, decided to fly out
Bed sheet turned white wings of soaring swan
It started flying before I could even doubt
Could a bed really become a flying bird?
I clutched the flapping wings lest I fall
My bemused eyes looked up skyward
Saw stars beckoning me, I heard their call.
The bed flew to the other side of the globe
Where the golden sun rose in sky of splendor
The flying bed now draped in a colorful robe
Landed softly on a green valley of flower.
I soon fell asleep on the flower-decked bed
The unseen dreams I left in room returned
These weren’t in black and white but in red
Took the shape I desired, my heart patterned.
A flying bed the mind needs to invent in fantasy
See dreams in color painted by heart’s ecstasy.
March 29, 2018.
I woke up this autumn Sunday morning
with papier-mâché clouds performing
like a ticker-tape parade from left to right
a strong breeze doodling fall leaves to flight
The birds are just gliding, no flapping in sight.
Today’s a free day, a don’t mess with me day.
I’ve no homework, or assignments
it’s like I’ve escaped from confinement
even my coffee tasted like creamy freedom.
What do you do when you don’t have to do
anything? Why, I could write a play, like Mozart,
or an opera, like Shakespeare - if I were THAT smart -
but don’t those sound like academic effort to you?
I want to hold hands in the park and promenade,
Peter loves strolling the flower markets by the Seine,
a gelato at Amorino after lunch at the Saint James cafe,
and the rain or shine street art at Rue Saint-Rustique.
Isn’t boyfriend-time the best way to spend a Sunday?
.
.
Songs for this:
Waterguns (feat. Tom Bailey) by Caravan Palace
Backyard Boy by Claire Rosinkranz
Dreamin' by G. Love & Special Sauce