Long Flies Poems
Long Flies Poems. Below are the most popular long Flies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flies poems by poem length and keyword.
Golden Eagle
A raptor formed from days of dinosaurs—
the largest and most nimble- it is said
our Golden Eagle flies with highest scores
for fear. Neath clouds, heroic wings are spread
with grace, but carry death- talons, and beak
his tools of killing prowess honed to hunt
down prey in tree or nest from mountain peak-
adept at swooping down, sharp eyes confront.
Yet, as a symbol, Golden Eagle gleams;
from fledgling on, his strength presents a sign-
a calling to be etched in cultures' dreams.
His courage symbolized- with him aligned:
The aspirations to attain new heights—
and self-discovery through soaring flights.
Sandra M. Haight
~5th Place~
Contest: Golden Eagle
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: 10/23/2015
It's often been dubbed as the poor man's Marmite
That substitute breakfast spread called Vegemite
Vegemite vixens are now preparing to fight
But they're onto a loser, Tom's ready to bite.
His legions are heading for the land of the roo
It will be the mother of all battles, I'm not kidding you
Already hundreds of refugees are heading for the coast
The Marmite empire will be victorious, that's no idle boast.
Vegemite spread is used widely to keep flies off of food
But Marmite on toast for breakfast puts you in a good mood
I'll give the Vegemite vixens one chance to surrender
Or I'll teach them a lesson, one they'll always remember.
Any Vegemite Vixens caught will be punished mercilessly
Force fed delicious black Marmite for all their eternity
So lay down your jars now and you'll be so glad you did
Or face the wrath of the empire with the bright yellow lid.
written 21st February 2022
The wind sweeps over my bikini
and combs through my hair
This canoe ride.. is like a glass of red wine
The Naked grape my favourite kind.
I feel at peace...............
For the first time, in a while
completely rid of my anxieties
The sun embraces my skin
My china doll ceramic is so accepting
My golden retriever fearlessly jumps off the dock
he flies
He seeks adventure and see's life for what it is
You see because life is two people throwing a frisbee.
Chasing the disc back and forth desperately in hopes of the one momentarty tasting his own
personal victories
Or those moments where you throw back your hair to the wind
Uncaring for the consequences
This is how he lives
My golden retriever is the essence of living,, unaware of how his actions may be percieved
as emberrassing.
Because he lives how he feels free, and when your free
your mind explodes like a dying star and is reborn into a forming galaxy
That is all he needs.
When is it in life that we as humans just accept life for the catch and release
The elegant flight of the greek discus
When we should be tossing away our laptops, and blackberries
I'm sick of fashion magazines
telling me what is the right skinny
Because I have two skin cascadian mountains erupting from my chest
I have hips like the sticks of dynamite
and nile river torso
and a bottom that is as flat as a pizza dough
You realize the quirks and aspects that make you as an individual
BEAUTIFUL
Live like the dog that is hidden in the back of your mind
find the little things that make you gratified
Love the people around you, and celebrate their arrivals like a carnival
Eat your bowls of food like they were your last meal
Lay out on the carpet as if you lay in a bed with sheets made from Egyptian Silks
This is the way to live your life I am telling you
"Chirpy chirpy children ride a blue and white train"
( A caption of a rail journey photograph)
Blue and white box
As if your eyes
Pictures in Inox
Outside a swarm of birds flies
Sweet chirpy chirpy ...
Listen to the children in their seats
Blue and white train
As if your sari
Children chatter
Sweet chirpy chirpy ...
Sweets on platter
From the Pantry car
The train halts
Near a school
Sweets and salts vendor
Children straightening their tie
Tiffin time over
Sweet chirpy chirpy ...
__________________________________________
September 18, 2019
Writing Challenge 2, September 2019
The Photograph - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
The chick grows to puberty hearing the sound of surfs as a lullaby,
returning waves as rocking cradle, fed by passing clouds and drank
of fogs. He learned: how to fly friend with wind, flow of time following the sun and moon, and direction through stars of constellations. And about the time when flock of birds returns
to this isle after long absence from the isle to avoid harsh and cold winter, the bird, flapping his huge wings, soared higher and higher to the endless deep sky.
After such, time had passed and autumn, again, returns to this isle,
all birds abandon it and flies away as before. And when all the birds left, raging bellows, deep fogs, torrential rain, high wind, thunders and lightening punish this little isle once again, the gigantic bird flies over and lands on this top cliff, then, he sits on the nest where his mother’s burnt bones still remain. He cries sorrowfully vomiting blood, while gathering and holding mother’s remains in his wide breast.
During the circle of days and nights, when the bird sees rays come from peeking sun between crevices of thickened cloud, he soars high to reach the sun, pecks a piece and brings it back to the nest and
covers mother’s remains with it.
He repeats this act as long as the sun is in the sky. After so much folds of sun-ray, he goes back and forth restlessly watching radiance floating atop of pathetic mother. When the weather turns worse as before, the bird covers mother with his broad breast.
After so much of those stormy weathers and occasional sunshine
pile up, spring approaches to this isle, and when such time comes, waters return to tranquility that of calm of primitive day. And in this absolute stillness, moon rises to die everything from sky to sea, to the color of dark-blue. And in this dark-blue stillness, the son-bird carries mother bird, which is resurrected as dark shadow on his back and flies away to the moon, to the sky, to the farthest dark-blue sea.
After the son-bird has flown away carrying mother bird on his back, though heap of suns became highest mountain, heap of moons became deepest sea, it was so told, these birds having once flown away never return to this little islet.
Shadow of Emily Dickinson
Shut in
But not
Shut out,
Heartbreak -
Tragedy from high towers
Swooping down in towering tornados
Descending,
Ascending from foul marshes
In quick sand
Stalking careless footsteps;
Stealth, like a storm,
Lurking by the doorstep
Round the corner
On the highway
Up the highroad
Near the low road;
Alone
But not lonely
Colleagues of long ago,
My companions,
Coax my muse into contemplation
Far from the scheduled, frantic crowd,
Erratic cacophony
Blowing horns, sirens,
And lonely whistles of night trains -
No harmony -
Wooing inner child emerge to play again,
Bundled up against the frozen banshee’s breath,
Sitting in the lap of time – lost and unrestrained
In candied dawns and lavender midnights,
Ignoring the scream of seconds to pay attention
Startled by life peeping in through rosettes –
Intruder with vacant eyes
Calling dance with dance macabre
To the dirge of who knows, when shutters close;
Turned out -
The fainting soul flies on clipped wings of stone restored -
Not turned away
Turning ‘round -
Grabbing the hand of verse – friend called lyric -
To the sound of remembered carousels enchantment;
Freeing elfin earthbound energy;
Essence escaping boundaries at a welcoming hearth
Exploding
From isolation’s womb.
7-30-20
In the light of the Holy Spirit
God can I talk to you
From the setting sun
Watching
I see you painting
Fluffy mountains
So many shades of colour
Upon the sky
Looking at the trees
Swaying gently
summer breeze softly
Whispering
to the flowers
The master of light
Smiling from
A golden paradise
I see you lord
Everything in you perfect
As a birds flies by
Teach me how to draw
From the dark caves
I never claimed
to be perfect
God believe me
I tried so hard
To misty mountains
An angel came
As the tears
rolled down my cheeks
Who rescued me
Pointing a direction
Slowly I draw
my way out
Beginning with
The colours of light
Through a rainbow
Everything around me
Became so beautiful
I forgave
the past
With my own
Past sins
Finding peace
in love
A gentle heartbeat
With light
thank you
Lord
Bozo the clown is ready to begin,
in Cuba, Fidel Castro starts his reign.
Buddy Holly meets a horrible end,
Charles de Gaulle is back on top again.
Motown now brings us a whole lotta soul,
Disney’s Sleeping Beauty warms up our heart.
TV’s Bonanza, Rawhide, Twilight Zone,
and The Untouchables all get their start.
That F104C flies higher still,
the show ‘Rocky and his Friends’ is unveiled.
Marx Brother’s are no longer on TV,
the first ‘Barbie’ dolls are ready for sale.
Vince Lombardi takes over the Packers,
the Cardinals trade just one player for nine.
Tom Landry starts to coach for the Cowboys,
in about 30 years he will resign.
Boston Celtics score one seventy three,
Candlestick Park is now Bayview’s new name.
One-forty-eight straight then Yogi errors,
Boston Red Sox last race barrier team.
Food stamps help to fill our hungry bellies,
a new design for the pennies tail end.
The Dalai Lama has to leave China,
Al Ginsberg’s “Lyseric Acid” is penned.
Hawaii becomes state number fifty,
Japanese Americans freed once more.
Russia shows us the far side of the moon,
America wants to even the score.
No one knows why they played two All Star games,
least they sent someone to the Hall of Fame.
The AFL is the new football league,
Eddie Lubanski bowls two perfect games.
Oklahoma’s prohibition is done,
Soviets to invade Afghanistan.
Able and Baker leave orbit and back,
and NASA announces their moon trip plan.
SR.N1 is the first flying ship,
Lady Chatterley’s Lover is now banned.
Planet 9 from Outer Space aptly named,
as the world’s ‘worst film’ and then it gets canned.
The discovery of Zinj means humans,
had lived at least two million years ago.
Ike bounces his message off of the moon,
we hear that Kookie can lend us his comb.
Hendrix buys his first electric guitar,
he only plays one gig and then gets fired.
Bob Dylan graduates from his high school,
and he is beginning to be inspired.
There’s a growing sense that things are changing,
people can’t quite put their finger on it.
In Wakenda I’m clinging to my mom,
and my diapers keep filling with ‘not spit’.
I'm awakened
my eyes are pierced and open
I am beckoning upon my Sensibility
I am aware of hope
All that's sustaining me
Perish the thought
Arise, arise
Arousal
In what Split Second
I'm black indoor mane unsuspected lost memories
What?
WHERE?
Who?
subconscious I'm to blame
I close my eyes and I see the same
The Blackness surrounds me void
I am lost my will I've lost my way
I come to the present tense
to stay lost
Lost consciousness
it's a real thing
Lost consciousness
in the darkness my soul Spirit the same
Lost Consciousness
I have nothing to here
even my gasp for air my breath has left
Lost Consciousness
my body can't move but my spirit rise and flies
Towards the heavens due
My mind's awake now I'm alert and I'm alive this I choose
3/29/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Straight-lined radiance
spiraling gravity's view
Gravity pulls
in search of gratitude,
requited.
Radiance flies toward Exterior Light,
Gravity dances with Interior Night,
A flight of fancy dance.
Radiant birth reaches tender tendrils
toward touch of bright.
Rich embedded birth searches below
with slender stealth
toward Other,
where We become more than One.
Born again in perpetual orgasmic grasp
And release of creolizing nutrients,
sustainable capital,
sensational value,
sacred meaning,
secular learning,
sublime creating
informed ex-forming
immigrating emigrants.
Looking back,
Interior Landscape recalls gravity's reverse,
spiraling toward future flower,
new eyes and ears
raining seeds of actively resilient hope
for Exterior Landscape's ReGenesis.
Seeds spiral down
darkly,
richly rhyming
Earth's PermaCultured Story.
Sublime Spring's buds
Ergodically bloom
Facing blind bliss by Summer's day,
warm wet caress by night
toward falling gratitude
Species' seed prediction:
a wintry night of purgation,
while love unites
depression
oppression
suppression
repressing
what positive impressions
Earth has already harvested
for spiral-limned radiance of Spring.
Straight-lined radiance,
spiraling gravity's view.
Gravity draws
a resonant song of gratitude,
radiantly
resiliently requited.