Long Float Poems
Long Float Poems. Below are the most popular long Float by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Float poems by poem length and keyword.
When the day is done
And you are at ease
Just recharge your mind
Do as you please
Just relax
Your heart is pounding
From a fast paced track
Slow the pace down
Just relax
From the helter skelter living
To the treadmill pounding
There is no sense at all
If you cannot rest for a while
Take some time out and discern
So vigour is reborn
Sit down, lie down, float around
But always try, to just relax
Just relax from the strains that rides us
From the tedium of life which irks us
From the sorcerers who torment us
From The Strawman who represent us
Don't worry at all
Things will change
Keep your countenance
Let it shine
Feel the joy, that's inside
Do good, so it may comfort your soul
Sing praises, let your blessings unfold
Your heart is pounding
Beating your chest
You are under constant scrutiny
You are under constant duress
Recharge your aura
Be blessed
Put aside your burden
And just relax
Live your life
With no regrets
Ignite your passions
Seek a redress
So what was hidden from your sight
Becomes the new dawning
Becomes the new Light
Look upon the clouds
Watch the trees
Watch their growth
Watch the animals as they frolic
Over the glens and down the crevice
Watch the trees planted tall
Watch the plants, clinging to the wall
And with purpose, they survive
When I think of the wonders
I then realize
Take some time out to be amazed
Take some time out to laze
For of all the things that keeps us on the track
Never forget your blessing
When you just relax
I sailed an olive boat
into the center of the sea
alone
to find a cure for my loose heart
not the spring-back type, noble with elasticity
but leap-forward lecher-wild
binding to any skirted frame and drooping hemline
like friendly burrs in shrubbery lanes
sat in an olive boat
drifting mid-seas
unaccompanied but for Hope to land a cure upon my knees
to heal my lousy, narcissistic zeal
an insatiable human thinks like a possessed apiary
an overwrought dam
I tonsured my beatific locks
as bare as Samson
hoodwinked
by his pet Flytrap
tossed reflective surfaces, anything that would give my face
a way to self-seduction
safe in a roasted green-pea float
lost like dead at sea
to recover a voice that scarcely has been mine
its echo returns not
through bursting towns
busy at trade
hawkers cawing,
hucksters' crow delirious,
chattering cashboxes
traffic snakes wending
Nowhere do they end in time
always metal and rust
ferric towering towers, condominium pride,
noisome domiciles, toxic steel cages
barring the success of this voice~
the sound of your mind drowned inside the urban brawl
not a jot of space to reckon nor conciliate
blushing-rushing-golden consciences
an echo may not return to its sender then ~
a man with no name.
Wailing for her demon lover, Coleridge had it right
A masterful poet, his words are ominous, not light.
Did he have his own sweet love? Was she a secret too?
Gothic ideas of mystery swirl around my brain in blue.
Coleridge was a master; his work keeps me on the edge.
His imagery on the brink of pushing me just shy of off the ledge.
Is she a figment of Coleridge’s imagination, or does his own maiden exist?
If she is a married woman, will they never find a bliss or share a kiss?
A secret Coleridge has kept, in a dark, dank, dour place.
His poetry so wonderful, I smile when I see a likeness of his face.
Samuel T. Coleridge, a master whose poetry delights my dendrite stream.
Sometimes his powerful stanzas float into my Gothic current dream.
When I try to look back, it hurts to start
A mother I was now in continual broken heart
In the innocence of that Sunday quietly shopping away
When my thoughts to humanity go in angered astray
One minute he held my hand, the next he was gone
In suspended silence I float amidst stared public throng
Questions through confusion as to where I stood last
Still feeling his hand, that loving maternal grasp
Lights became brighter, louder were the voices
Still confusion abounds in sporadic lost choices
Who could have taken him, where has he gone
So many voices not singing the same song
Continually I dream about these words you've just read
To the end of my days I can't think of him dead
Hopelessness, like krait betwixt stones, creep into heart,
Confusion, like troubled stream, from heart, stands apart;
I am lonely and lost; float on flooding river,
Lifeless! Though reach the banks, I'll live like a sliver...!
I try to avoid despair, yet, like leech it clings,
Looks externally simple; it has hooking strings;
With sufferings and pains it makes my mind brim-fill,
When I find emptiness and void, it remains still...!
How long will my hopelessness last? Will there be end?
To those joys that shake it, will this easily bend?
Is hope, like sun in fog veiled? Or like lost stars gone?
Will, hence, in my life, no costumes of virtues don...?
Am I able to relax in my times of pain?
Seeking divine blessings, do I my soundness gain?
Do I wait and watch for all gloomy times to pass?
Does my outlook end with the tunnel of impasse...?
Step-by-step, little-by-little I try to reach,
Zenith of freedom and my troubles to impeach...
Roughness in me, toward me, like chaffs in winds, blown,
I tread the paths of life Holy Scriptures have shown...!
11 August 2022
It's after midnight,and I walk unhurriedly
on a well-lit road flanked by orchids;
a casual squirrel crosses fearfully
as I listen to the soft sounds of crickets,
turning repeatedly to both sides
so curious to know where they hide...
The early spring sings to the moon,
a spotted face looking solemnly happy
while the friendly stars smile on:
to hear the whispers they exchange sweetly;
and before the nightgales retrieve at dawn
in rosy tree tops, they'll be gone...
I spot patches of dark blue,
like the lake below,peaking through
the huge branches of oaks and pine trees;
the soft moon's gleams paint them in silver,
and how lovely they seem in that glimmer,
enough to give them the sembiance of a magical forest
within a sweltering city in need of a cool breeze,
capable of bringing relief from the hazy mist...
The early springs sings to the moon,
the merry notes float on the scented breeze
to reach a distance I cannot achieve;
my contemplation will end soon...
I go past the yellow and purple daffodils;
are they ever tired of standing on their stems,
of giving their pollen to the eager butterflies?
What a joy and beauty they'll take away from us!
The early spring sings to the new moon,
I am a vagrant in this nature's wondrous spectacle;
like life going through short days: bright or dull,
I passing through to live and die soon...
He spent his nights on the rolling seas
Eating half-raw fish and moldy cheese
He'd float into town about twice a year
To see some old friends and drink a little beer
He played an old guitar with worn-out strings
With callused fingers, he could make it ring
And he knew every song that'd ever been played
And sung them all whenever he stayed
I met the old man when I was just a boy
Strumming a six-string that was just a toy
He took it from my hand and showed me a chord
He came back the next day and showed me one more
In a few weeks, I went looking around
But the old man had sailed for the next coastal town
So I took the two chords and learned a few tunes
And I played on the streets for the drunks and the loons.
Sing a song for me Captain , sing a song before you go,
Sing a song for the sailors sailing with the morning glow.
Sing a song for the men working the docks late at night
Sing a song for the mothers who hold their babies tight.
Sing a song for me Captain, sing a song before you sail
Sing a song for me Captain another story you can tale.
By Michael Liguori and Robert Liguori
Dagwood Bumstead
Probably has been in the company of broccoli
We know that he and Blondie like to Eat
Tarzan most likely has been in the company of broccoli
Especially in the Jungle, everything grows there
Batman and Robin eat on the down low, they have probably seen a little cold broccoli when fighting Mr. Freeze
the cast of Archie Bunker often eats on the show
Do they love broccoli?
I do not know
Ask Meathead when you see him
I want to know who reading this adores broccoli
You can eat broccoli, so many different ways,
Broccoli likes to float in cheddar cheese soup it seems
Has anyone ever put barbecue sauce on broccoli?
How about deep fried breaded broccoli
Then dipping it in a bowl of barbecue sauce
Wouldn’t that be fantastic?
And so healthy!
I have on occasion eaten barbecue ribs
Made for me by the local Asian market place
Delicious
Is a barbecue rib the same thing as breaded deep fried broccoli covered in barbecue sauce?
No, I don’t think so
Because I just invented breaded, deep-fried, barbecue broccoli
Wow, doesn’t that read as deliciousness !?!
?
Ideas begin to percolate
They pop out of me in bubbles
Floating out the window
Stopping traffic
One hesitates
Apparently feels badly.
Changes directions and floats back.
I pop it and reptile, banana, and Grand Canyon fall out.
A blue banana riding a pink reptile
At the Grand Canyon float into my dendrite field.
The banana whips out an I-phone and begins taking selfies.
In the tiniest voice she says “You won’t believe where I am”.
“Where?”
“In someone’s head.”
Rhymes begin floating out of another part of my brain.
The rhyming part. I have a phrenologist bust.
I look at it but do not see any area labelled rhyming
So what good is it?
The rhymes are singing now, in a lilting sing-song way.
“I will get them!” the blue banana yells.
She begins chasing the rhymes.
She brought two back.
Scramble and Bramble.
I snatch up verdant, perceptibly and goose as they float by
Or maybe these are just my floaties.
I am unclear now. Is this real or another dream? I shut my eyes.
In the veils of dusk, where whispers merge with shadows,
My dear lover, do not seek a soul like mine.
Seek someone more radiant, or a spirit akin to yours,
But not someone who bears the unseen shadows I keep hidden.
I do not wish to see their tears for your broken fragments,
Nor for you to live in the silence that suffocates and demands quiet while screaming.
Do not bring back the scene where only one character declaims
In bifurcated silences, where hearts beat to dissonant rhythms.
So, my dear, seek someone brighter, but not like me.
Search for beauty without my hidden scars,
Embrace the moon while holding the shining stars,
Find that perfect being who is in harmony,
Unburdened by words that float empty in the air.
Thus, my dear, find someone better, but never like me.
I hope you do not encounter a heart consumed by unseen flames,
Nor a soul at war with its own essence.
Avoid those caught in the whirlpools of their thoughts,
Someone who loves you deeply but disrupts your peace too often.
So, my dear, seek someone better, but not like me.
When it comes to me, I will wait in the shadows, counting your smiles.
Do not worry about me; they say time flies.
Once again, I will hide my insecurities,
Deeply knotted and perfectly entwined within my veins.
So, my love, I might search for you in the tides of longing,
But you, you must never find anyone like me,
For my wounds obscure your bright stars,
And my soul burns with flames that do not bring you peace.
So, my dear, seek a gentler light,
Someone who embraces you with peaceful harmony,
Where words are windows to a serene heart,
And love floats like the song of a falling star.