Long Floating(a) Poems
Long Floating(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Floating(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Floating(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Looking around
startled awake,
I gaze around
and begin to shake
Thinking I’m mad
pretending a dream,
suddenly I realize
I’m sitting in a stream
Sitting to left
an elf appeared,
he just smiled
and said
“Howdy there”
Standing up
I am naked as day
“oh my god !!
what would mum say?”
Finding leaves
and bits of vine,
making a dress
that flowed divine
Another realm called
reaching through veils,
it caused me to pause
but I wandered the trail
Off to the right
hushed in soft light,
a unicorn was bucking
dazzling the night
He walked up to me
nudged with his horn,
gestured to follow
I’m agasp and in awe
But,follow him I did,
closely at heel,
I was silent in wonder
across Elysian fields
Floating a cloud
up to the moon,
sitting on a star
a universe cocoons
Sweeping the solar winds
fingertips reach up,
resting at peace
in the bottom of teacup’s
my dearest
i set sail
to you
floating a dream
calling out destination
blowing gently
on a seashell horn
sweetest love
honey sweet mead
nectar of the gods
upon your face
shines golden
beautiful
a soft shining soul
gentle in happiness
two becoming one
holding one's eyes
in a blink
mirrors
the soul
lighting up
the darkest night
in warmth within
like parting waves
hair falls down
over your face
the sun beams
a smile
in token
for you a gift
clouds turn pink
blushing red
scarlet emotions blue
leaving one feeling
in a dream
a picture
beautiful gallery
hangs in the mind
one picture perfect
drawn out
from deep within
it's you
Majestic shades of green
rise with spring awakened scallion spikes;
Hunter greens edging into the forest hues
blended in jaded moss clusters pacing;
shamrock stepping stones low upon the grass,
amidst fern colored harlequin dreams;
minting limes scent the valley lily fields
with fragrance of spring rain blooms set free.
Shaded emerald pines stretch tall and regal kings
touching an arctic blue stone spruce assembly;
mixing morning azure navy skies creeping in
wafting untethered upon the ocean cobalt waves;
longing criers wail at the wind swept of peacock plumes
floating a wavy carefree farewell to Aegean lapis streams;
Each call out - come hither with scent and fragrance of the seas
released surf to pantone Persian midnights
and all the hidden repressed dreams
of spring in early bloom
and oceans writhing in storm tossed summer stills
blending earth and sea with colored dreams.
ALL ALONE
She’s alone with a new life inside of her and no where for her to bring it home she feels isolated like one who’s head has been decaffeinated why is she floating a stray oh yea because he left her the day he found out she was going to be changing day by day now she doesn’t know what to do what to look forward to she sees no reason to seek virtue madly in love but the companionship she once had has turned into dust “why would he does this to me “ the thought that runs through her mind constantly she sees no hope that lies in the future behold she feels likes she left in the cold why is it that she is so young with this new life because persuasion and love are the two things add up to be a bad drug now she has lost the one she loves and nothing left to do but look to the man above hold her head high and soar towards the skies you shouldn’t be all alone but look forth to a future and a place to call your own for all you young women who have been deiceived often from the way you are perceived don’t let some one use you for just them to say u were just the next but instead make it your goal to be somebody and strive for the best
We gathered around an old, grey battered table,
one leg was to short, darn thing was unstable.
Spread out on top laid a map with torn edges,
markings in pen, circling valleys and ridges.
Azimuth in hand and pen in grips sight,
lines were drawn showing us our next fight.
Two klicks up north, and a jaunt to the west,
we'll cover that ground, with no stopping to rest.
Our numbers are weak, but survival is strong,
we've been here before, it seems years long.
Battle hardened and faithful, this small force of ten,
doing these type missions, time and time again.
We'll wait until dark, deep into the night,
heading out then, beginning our plight.
With time on my hands, and empty stomach to fill,
then gather some rest, positive that I will.
I drift off to sleep, floating a wave of memories stored,
she's such a warm site, melting my heart deep to its core.
Her arms are crossed, leaning against open doorway,
my auburn haired beauty, batting lashes at me.
Her eyes are light hazel, gold, green, and soft brown,
lighting up my dark soul, thats been vacant, a ghost town.
Just as she was bout to speak,
with her voice so soft, a vocal treat.
I feel my body being gently shaken,
My fellow warrior saying, "its time, awaken."
Coming to, while wishing I had heard the thoughts she spoke,
within my silent, but visual dream, before I woke.
The time is dark the mission ahead, seek enemy,
we will kill them all, and pray we take no casualties.
Almost instantly as I exit the olive drab colored tent,
mind sails to my auburn haired beauty, smiling,winking, Heaven sent.
I must return back to her whole, just as I had left,
not arriving home, within flag draped, silver casket.
Auburn haired beauty, she's worth my life and more,
her freedom, our home, today, I will kill for.
I long to be on the mainland,
I’ve trekked waters freezing,
I’ve traversed oceans rough.
I long to be on a mainland,
I’ve seen rocks jutting and jagged,
I’ve heard men howl into the night-time surf.
I long to be on your mainland,
I fled from bombs, blasts and waves,
I escaped whirlpools of fear.
I long to return to my mainland,
to kiss my wife as saltwater laps the sunset shore,
holding hands with my son as shells sing their seabed verse.
I long to belong. To no longer
be an island floating, a jetsam migrant
adrift and at sea - whom you might
view from afar on a screen shrouded
in flashes - but whom you don’t truly see.
What if color was but a tone and people called the world their home...?
Then life would be better than this, much better than this kindles', and tablets' and bits'.
What about giving and recieving gifts?
Throwing fits you are not going to get and do not you forget.
Stones break windows and lights signify night.
Sticks swing at people then hitch and then hike.
It is what it is but it may not be what it may.
Speak your free minds but beware of what it is you must say.
I need today every single last day.
When they're gone, we are far, far away.
Believe in yourself, stand up tall in your frame.
Reality bites so live life-like a likable game.
Secrets are whispers that pass among men.
Tell them wisely or keep them within.
Please say thank you whenever you say,
Something nice, doing a good deed everyday.
Money is the fine price we all must, we pay.
Buying happiness online at a high interest rate.
Inflation keeps rising and going up, up and away.
The cost of life is but a price check away from becoming your fate.
Today and tomorrow are equally great.
The end always begins with a brand new, a clean slate.
Wait in line for a really long time.
Buy a snack from that one guy floating a sign.
Wave these bygones be bye gone with the last hours, left behind song.
Buckle up for the bustle and get down with your hustle, just grind long.
Be your best, your very best, all through this day.
Only to believe today is being your day to be brave.
Asking everyone including us all, and you too,
What if color was but a tone and people called the world their home...?
Then life would be better than this, much better than this kindles', and tablets', and bits'.
Oh my!
10-16-17
Amelia she loves to chat and tells an amusing story
But dear readers BEWARE – this one’s a little gory
She worked long hours at night as a barmaid
It was a job she loved and good wages she got paid
She’d had a busy day and her pits were a little whiffy
So she had a little bath – it would only take a jiffy
So into the bath Amelia got, she sank into the bubbles
But this was only the beginning of Amelia’s troubles
Amelia did a little fart but unfortunately followed through
And in the bath was floating a little bit of poo
Amelia got out quickly and left the bath to drain
But unbeknown to her the turd it did remain
She got dressed and ready to go - she had to get her lift
To the pub she loved to work in she always enjoyed her shift
With the customers Amelia was always a big hit
She didn’t let on her secret that in the bath she’d done a little poop*
But it was a Wednesday night and a quiz was on this day
Amelia she loved this challenge and she would always play
The final question stumped many people but they wanted to be the winner
Which barmaid crapped in the bath tonight and could they name the sinner?
The one in the white t-shirt some of the customers did shout
Amelia went as red as a beetroot- she couldn’t wait to get out
But the customers they did shout and cheer
And poor Amelia had to pour them another beer
Now Amelia no longer works in the bar
She works as a receptionist – she’s really come far
She loves her new job and always likes to talk
But to stop her following through now she always wears a cork.
· I had to change this from the S*** word as I know swearing is not allowed – but the expletive does make the poem flow better.
Jan Allison
19th March 2014
~submitted for contest Take 2 Free poetry contest sponsored by Nette Onclaud ~
- Unplaced in contest 'tickle my funny bone' sponsored by Francine Roberts ~
~ Please see notes about this poem ~
Music is a form of liquid art that, when you close your eyes,
will paint a picture in your mind with a paint that never dries.
And being that it’s liquid…music has one solitary goal
to paint all the crevices of your heart and every corner of your soul.
Each song creates a different painting with it’s first note…
it’s christening
depending on the words….
the tune…
and on the person listening.
Music can take us to a myriad of places all from the comfort of our seat
or, before we know it, can lift us up and have us dancing on our feet.
Music can make us laugh,
can make us sing…
can make us cry
sometimes it’s so magical it’s as if the notes are floating by.
Music can burn like fire…its heat hot enough to make us scream
It can flow fast and hard like a raging river…or soft and cool as a mountain stream.
Music can wrap us in a sheet of ice that we slowly chip away
or warm us like the sun peeking through the leaves in the shade of a summer day.
Music can feel like medicine…healing us when we’re sick
or it can feel like butter…like Butta!…as it spreads over us…warm and thick.
But as exquisite as is the artwork from music’s liquid composition
what makes it elegant
what makes it beautiful
are the hands of the musician.
For once they touch their instruments…
and we see that sparkle in their eyes
we know it’s time to hold on to our seats
because colors are about to fly.
Soon we find ourselves floating a sea of colors
and we smile
we close our eyes
as a picture is painted in our mind…
with a paint that never dries.
Enervated little child
could not guess from her tender mind
about where has she gone?
She wonders and looked around
later there was a continues cry
looking at the dad.
Poor dad didn’t utter a word
but pat tenderly on her back
How can he explain the real mystery?
Mum has depart from the little family having a divorce
Before that there was unaffordable patience
Suspicions, quarrels, disagreements and arguments
Can she realize the dissension between them?
Little one cried for want of mum
Dad exhausted, and put a glance at the couple of sun birds
making a melodious note
Resting on a fully blossomed branch of hibiscus bush
He murmured affectingly to the baby
in a perceptive manner
Look! Nice little birds… calling you,
Would you like to go their nest?
It is beautiful, neat, and peaceful,
Ostracized little girl
did not realize what father says
And she cried and cried
Poor man looked at the cloudy sky
Where floating a lonely kite
Jayaratne Weerakkody