Long Flipping Poems
Long Flipping Poems. Below are the most popular long Flipping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flipping poems by poem length and keyword.
This is actually a form called: Kenning but, there wasn't a form listed for it.
I just wanted to try one; hope it's decent.
Swirling, twirling,
Windy-curling’s;
Rounding bark,
After dark.
Never ending
Branches bending;
Leaves singing;
Falls greeting.
Flying debris,
Landing free;
Raining-houses;
Sometimes mouse’s.
Cracking-clacking,
Branches snapping.
Buildings crumbling;
Mind-numbing.
Fear spreading,
Roofes shredding;
Stomach turning,
Heart-burning.
Car-flipping,
Winds tripping;
Scrambling livestock;
Air-spinning.
Dogs barking,
Birds flocking;
Traffic lights,
In flight.
These things,
Tornado brings.
Insurance claims;
Awful pain.
There came a point where my writer’s hands stopped writing
And the writer’s block started biting
And my soul stopped fighting
And I was flipping lost
I wanted to scream my truths
From the tops of the highest roofs
But my talent was aloof
Because I flipping forgot
I gave up and in
And blocked my passion from within
And put down the paper and pen
I got caught
It wasn’t until my cousin died
And my auntie asked me to write
As hard as it was I fought that fight
I began
My words weren’t empty anymore
And I opened up that door
To allow my intent to be felt and my words to soar
I write again
The passion never died it just took a break
Like a sunny day at an empty lake
Full of loneliness and heart ache
I gave in
I have rekindled my fire
From the depths of its own ashes
My blood her ink
My skin her paper
I let it bleed
From the center of me
I write.
Take my mind
I offer it to You
If it goes blind
It comes anew
Hold my mind tight
Never let it go
Take it off fright
All I forego
With the time on my mind
I gave my mind one job
To lean on You for all to bind
That in higher grounds, You lob
Mind paints my weaknesses
It is You Who paints purposes
Heart paints my strengths
Yet You alone determines it lengths
You are my architect of life
That designs the fire in my eyes
To burn down the cold strife
And I only watch as each dies
My childhood, its layout was of a touch
A plan I had then, so articulate it was
My adulthood, it has plans in clutch
Cleverness, no doubt should be the cause
My brain sew and show the way sometimes
My mind preserves the truth most times
My hands paint lies- hurtful image on drywall
But my heart embedded calluses from every fall
Mind creating images to heal my heart
Without words, I caress the sky like a mime
See how different parts God designed by His art
More to say is each different role(s) so awesome
My hands are the only friend I see
Between my heart and mind that holds
Together their diff. cum similar., it foresee
Lies, truths, fairness and cruelty, it unfolds
It paints the world coz You hold it
Don't let go, grip pretty firm, or else am lost
If You try to loose off Thy hands, yes
I ...... in the wind that will soon exhaust
My hands ride in the wind, Your fingerprint
Because Your blessings cream my mind's traces
Perfectly to aid the clause match in blueprint
Masterpieces waving goodbye to say hello to places
My mind's age is in every turning page
My heart's care dares every running rage
I treasure the feelings of mind smiling
To sanction the emotions of heart piling
I extend my mind without flipping the trees, bye
I heal my heart moments when lost casting clock
The interlock of them two will be of tie
Unless I skip the will from within to knock
Yet in my mind and heart, their connection isn't enough
To say how great it is of the Lord's goodness
For many are ones both have forgotten in fluff
More in bit of bit continues to make up their brightness
Hallelujah!
TOMORROW
Tomorrow keeps on
Lifting her delicate hand
And flipping back strands of
Her colored, cherry-brown hair,
Which hang alonside her neck…
Grown long enough to just touch
Her collarbone.
Embellished with floral
And feathered pins,
Her exquisite hair flows down
Like the ironed lines
Of a cut and straightened
Halo…
Volumes of secrets Tomorrow knows
About what symbols live in those strands:
Silky, so thick, with a soft sweep
On down from from
The crown of her head
To cover her collar, and
Which she keeps absently
Tossing into the air
With the long fingers of her right hand
— Fingers turned and slightly bent,
Like a ballerina’s poised hands.
This is Tomorrow’s nervous habit
Manifest
Of present worries — burdening
Since childhood
To now — of things that
Are
Or could, shocking, crop up.
Tomorrow tries
To daydream away her sensing
Some of the possible, provoking streams
Of events — standing, waiting
In this day’s wings
For time’s cues to begin
Acting out the better or dreaded things.
As Tomorrow remains
Always
There, inclined in her earth-toned chair,
With her eyes half-closed,
In a Divinely gifted peace, subject
To the Divine power, who reigns over her ways.
And Tomorrow,
With us giving her reasons,
Continues
Tossing back strands of her hair.
————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 7/16/2023
Thanks be to God—-
It surely must be a cinch...
To scratch that type of itch,
Good luck getting rich,
When your niche keeps you poor
Then you come back for more,
Like a whore who gets bored
When someone evens the score
Take the window or door,
Swim all the way to the shore
Cause these ships going down
There are many who would drown
At the sound of a pounding
When working on grounding
The grit out of some wit
That just wants to get fit
To be able to sit
Avoiding the tit that bounced the writ
That was served as deserved
In a blur that was totally just the rust
That only fell but smelled funny
Like it was the good
Before we all got sick
You ing dick
You get the gist
When I miss the list
That I would kiss
Before making a fist
At all of this
It is far for bliss to drift amidst
What isn't but is
More than a Lyft
But a gift
To be not in a tiff
Yet some gif
Would uplift the next out of line hiss
As a new reality stick
To the target you hit
Still feel the need for a fix
Are NOT with whatever it is
It is totally not funny and not any of my biz
Just deal with it
That is my simple wish
Then add on doing the dishes
There is a list
BTW I brought home some fish
I caught
NOT
I pissed
In the pond
Everything went oh way so wrong
So, I started smoking a bong
To get along with the throng
Of those along for the twist
At the end
Where we all eat fried gull
That would risk
Dropping the ball
As it lifts
One more time just to fly
Instead of getting that bite
That just might start the addiction again
With more friction for the fiction
That a lot of us are forced to listen
When the whipping
Gets flipping so metaphorical
Then we find we have grit
And the rest does NOT have to be written
Forbidden
Yet to be forgiven
Still not hidden
From the ridden
Perplexed by riddles
Accompanied by giggles
It's so tasted the rainbow sort of gay
Eat your skittles enjoy the day
This is cray
Speak
We used to like Yoda
we used to like Gandalf
we used to like The Power Rangers
but now we just like Golf
remember days with Pog cards
they were flipping bad
mornings with your rock hard
and now we're going mad
Back when we were young
all was an unknown
soon we will be done
where did the time go
Puberty's a crisis
midlife is a crisis
wondering if Christ is
and if so why is ISIS
After good comes
a mental stain
flaccid wood flung
florescent stain
We used to dream and wonder
now we sleep and slumber
the old just seem to wonder,
life to six foot under
we used to like Gandalf
now we like Golf
we used to like Yoda
soon it's all over
They decided early that color
was wrong for McMurtry’s novel.
Peter left his wife after he discovered
Cybil on the cover of Seventeen.
He fired her assistant, when she upset
her by trying to run lines. He fought
with camera men, grips, the rest
of the crew. Cloris and Ellen got sloshed
every night, holding each other
through spasms of grief, unable to bury
their dying marriages. Tim, still hot
from his turn in Trumbo’s Johnny
Got His Gun, ached for the ingenue
goddess Peter kept all to himself.
Driving her in the 48 Ford Sunchariot,
black patch bandaging his wounded
eye, the pain comes off Tim in waves.
Raw performers, drenched
in disappointment and endless
hurt. The whimper of bed
springs when Sonny makes love
to Ruth Popper. Sam the Lion losing
his hold beside calm black water. Lois
in her cooler than cool killer black
sunglasses and scarf, flipping off
the town alpha. The longing in
Genevieve's broken smile. An elegy
to hope: Hank Williams wailing
(he sounds too blue to fly) ice wind
and black dust swarming
like a spell. Crumbs thrown
to the hungry ghost of rejection.
You cannot have me.
You. Cannot. Have. Me.
Involved with illumination in my imagination
Feeling the urge of sudden frustration and agitation
My spirit, with wit, is legit and yes, I admit
I’m a believer and a giver
But, I’m not your chopped liver
So, don’t butcher me into your oven of diseaseful danger
I’m unlimited with opportunities, so please don’t reduce me to anger
I’m drowning in doubtless hopes
I am coping, hoping I won’t hear your mopes
Loving you isn’t all that easy to the core
I’ll put my input into being free once more
I’m a fighter, levitating with a lighter in hand
Understand I am not going to land in your land
I will evolve eventually
And elegantly, you will rise robustly
Somehow, I’m living in the now
The silence of my past took a bow
Promising you peace in all aspects of life
Giving up and for the thousandth time, I will find my wife eventually as long as I don’t cut myself with life’s jagged knife
We have each other’s backs
I just got to sit back and relax
I am languishing in the literally bewildered mind of mine
Don’t worry about me, how are you? Are you doing fine?
Hold on to me and don’t let me collapse with cold hands
I am the twinge of pain of a flick of rubber bands…
Discard desires from the wicked
I want this loneliness and dread
To leave me the hell alone
Because, God is on my side
My rivers are running so wide
And narrow like trekking the pathway
From night to day, from night to day
I’ll be okay, as long as you are, darling
I want you to take wing with them and see what happiness will bring
I’m calm and getting ready to rest a little more than usual
Don’t mistaken me a nonsensical, dense fool because I’m not fooled, that’s bull
I am digging a grave to ingratitude and hatred
I am resurfacing reminisces, radiating in my head
Evolve with me for an eternity and beyond
I am a fish, flamboyantly flipping my fins in this peculiar pond
I’m looking forward to
letting my bare feet sink in silt
the waves weighing me down
salt sea leaving me breathless
I’m looking forward to
the sun bleaching my hair
heating my arms, legs, scalp
and the coconut scent of sunscreen
I’m looking forward to
sand between my toes
shifting, drifting, flipping
and coating my shins
I’m looking forward to
the playful splashing of the sea
watching kids make moats &
build and destroy sandcastles
I’m looking forward to
looking over my shoulder
for alligators and snapping turtles
on the loose, near every canal
I’m looking forward to
the tropical sips and eats
the lightning that strikes
right in front of my vehicle
I’m looking forward to
Florida highs and lows
The Mean Girls musical
My grand in the lead
2/22/2023
EVERYDAY IS GOD'S DAY
Threats of war-- shakes the peace floating in the breeze,
Bombs and guns, they rattle to break bony reasons of the mind,
Thorns and knocks that seed from biting disease,
Shouts and wails rising 'neath conscience and ego grind,
all these like wagon wheels-- the whole world theater confines
When will humans know there's always a God standing by?
Dawn and dusk---brace night and day, His own design
so are animals that swim, hop and eagles soaring high!
All He provided and us, He asked to keenly give an eye
but pass flipping years did we try to allot some time?
Utter some thanksgiving shedding clouds of shy?
Daily we walk a lifeline to reach one peak prime,
offering our lives humbly as like saint Paul
though pang of death is the stage of our befall...
Everyday is a day the Lord has made,
blessings He bestow a hug of sunlight,
tests, He spearheads--the best teacher blade. . .
Even if seven devils come in flight to invite
stand like Jesus in the wilderness, hold tight! Fight!
None like vapor but forward like Lancelot we go,
serving God, throughout our life, the zenith height.
Let praises grow and God's glory our constant show!
Hatred we forego, letting love melt a heart of snow
so when the day comes our Holy Father judge
let our lives greet Him with bright smile of hello
"Well, done faithful servant", He will say as He touch
beckoning us inside a prepared Castle room
Sharing with Him a life everlasting of bloom!
_________________________________________
Sponsor Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name -THIS IS THE DAY THE LORD GAVE-
Placed 1st
©O. E. Guillermo
09:19 pm, January 25, 2015