Long Flocking Poems
Long Flocking Poems. Below are the most popular long Flocking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flocking poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm pushing this heavy cart
without any strenght left,
and through isles swarming with shoppers
I'm confused by the above signs;
I rush to the one I missed dismaying onlookers.
How can I be so forgetful...
shouldn't I have a list of all items
I use thoughout the week?
I admit that guys are different from gals
with their minds focus on household things!
Yes, we guys aren't as patient as they are,
looking for bargains is a thriftiness that bugs us;
and down those isles we go..not reading labels,
not comparing prices...just filling up our shopping cart
with food we don't really need! And who will be embarassed
when the cashier tells us annoyingly that the credit card
has been declined! Oh, good grief...we don't carry enough cash,
to avoid blushing in the publice eye while the the line gets longer!
My advice to you guys: before you venture out shopping, stash your wallet
with enough cash, or check the balance on your credit or debit card;
it's another way of being smart! And besides being admired, you may also find romance
while you are in line and a pretty girl smiles, trying to start an intelligent conversation...
leading to a date or even marriage! Do you get it? Look sharp, flash lots of money
and really get lucky! If you fellas do what I have suggested,
you'll have broads flocking to you and your buddies will envy you for your luck!
Lyricism of wisteria ruses…peacocking muses gushing tomes
Classicism flocking..roams & woos homes not garden gnomes
Colourful creepers cruising..schmoozing with boisterously blushing bricks
Spring exudes mysticism..oozes oodles of bamboozling serendipity flushing
Cherished fingers rushing freely..delivers..unctuous ravishingly rambunctious
Relished slivers lavishly lingers..embellished..proudly protrudes
Inspires rhyming platitudes about gratitude...fires fresh
Attitudes across a range of altitudes & latitudes
Sprinkling wryly of vintner's drily sparkle...ends strange debacle...
Skint stints of wily skinflint winter’s splinters..with hints of now..Spring sprints
But also somehow.. if one squints..get an inkling of change..
Glints of summer's tints slyly twinkling
Spring slips those neo-leaves on protuberance-limbs.
Youth is adorned with buds and flowering whims.
Poppies drench an infant’s eyes and awaken sleep.
Spiked trellis dreams sow garden-beard whims.
Blackbirds scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.
How cleverly they remember your namesake whims.
First walking stick, unbridled from bark, boggled the mind.
Pet rocks, pop rocks and chia pets - purchased on whim.
The scent of lilac, honeysuckle and a thunderstorm,
Fresh dirt, the taste of mud pie, every childhood whim.
Butterflies flocking, shepherded by an animated sun.
Symmetry of wings, color wash flutters whimsically.
Now the visionary dives into a wide berth of gospel hymns.
Her desire’s to raise up the Springtime, praising at whim.
2/13/2022
The Days Come, Warmer
Time has ammassed the many aspects of me,
Which I then collect, design and tatt
Into delicate lace edgings for my aging, and which I then
Lay out into rings around the bases of tree trunks
To become splendor again, anew across the landscape
— with the fragrance of lilies — orange, yellow, purple —
Bursting their blooms through the darkened earth
Beside the already growing roses, asters, peonies and hostas —
To celebrate meeting a new season of warmth in the forest;
Awaiting evensong, to grace this day’s ending work and memories
With the birds flocking, circling, singing out overhead
From here to the horison’s moonrise.
———————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 5/12/2023
Building your wings feather by feather.
Checking the skies, watching the weather.
Sitting alone, dreaming of angels
And birds of a wing flocking together.
Experiments fail, trying again.
Experience showing how, where, and when.
Observing the sun lifting the morning
Vibrating, warming the sweet oxygen.
And we say: Don't fly too high!
The winds are much too strong!
Don't fly too high!
Come back! Come back
To where you belong!
Envisioning vistas, dizzying heights.
Racing with stars and meteorites.
Plummeting earthward, heart in throat.
Wonderful hungers, strong appetites.
Tasting it, living it, not just in dreams.
Making reality more than it seems.
Inventing a walkway to where you would go.
There, never here, and no in-betweens.
And we say: Don't fly too far!
The road home is too long!
Don't fly too far!
Come back! Come back
To where you belong!
Never too high to tumble back down,
Never too low for fear you might drown.
Never too fast, risking a crash
Never too slow, steady you go.
Never too far to lose your way.
Never too close, never to stay.
Never too loud, never too proud
Never too strong, never allowed.
Never too happy, never too bright.
Never in darkness, never in light.
Never on accident, never as planned.
Never blessed but never damned.
Never beginning thus never an end.
Never an enemy, never a friend.
Never relax, never pursue.
Never, it's me, so never, it's you...
The morning was breaking and sheep were awaking,
which was much as the sheep all expected to do
But this morning's arising was far more surprising –
a mask fairy had brought them all something new
And the fairy remained and to them explained,
"The times now ahead will be tricky and fraught,"
The sheep were all puzzled, bemasked and bemuzzled,
but guessed no-one else cared a whit what they thought
At the fairy's insistence,"You must keep your distance,
the folds are unfolding so sheep have more space.
Sheep breathing is shedding a virus that's spreading
and that's why you're wearing that mask on your face.
“Your communal eating, your breathing and bleating,
endangers the rest of the sheep in the flock
The virus arising is uncompromising,
so all sheep are trapped 'twixt a hard place and rock.
“The spread we are blocking through good social flocking,
do not be alarmed for the rules are quite clear:
We must thwart or confuddle a sheep's urge to huddle,
you can flock all you want to, but don't flock too near!
“There is no strict mandation for sheep isolation,
but two metres distance, at least, you must keep,
If you find this troubling, then you can try bubbling,
but you can but bubble with one other sheep.
“Though if you are eating, not breathing nor bleating,
devoting yourself to the one grazing task,
You can distance one metre from each other eater,
but if you stop eating you must wear your mask.
“It is most consequential, the mask is essential,
to live through this crisis, YOU MUST NOT FORGET!"
They did not forget them, but thoughtfully ate them,
and that is as far as sheep wisdom will get.
Spring's scent's in the air:
I smell it; I swear!
A sweet odor, only smelt
when Spring's awaking,
Winter's hold breaking,
and snowmen begin to melt.
When Spring calls them forth,
geese start flocking north.
And as songbirds greet the day,
bees visit fresh blooms;
trees don green costumes,
and flowers scent Spring's bouquet.
Dandelions grow
where warmer winds blow,
weaving carpets of yellow
atop fields of green;
conducting a scene,
more mellow than a cello.
While snow melts away,
Sol's light stretches day,
and the trees come back to life.
Plants sprout everywhere
with beauty and flair;
from grass to purple loosestrife.
It is summer,
and the umbrella men
are selling hotdogs.
A good-looking priest
enters Saint Pat's,
gangly young ladies giggle,
make the sign of the cross.
Thursday is AllYouCanEat pizza day
the joint will be too crowded, too poky,
the pizza rushed out, slapped and pasted.
Office workers, those that take medicinal weed,
come flocking from the second floors
of nowhere,
shoulder to shoulder,
they huddle to spread
petty scandals and rumors,
then return to stare at desktop computer games.
**** is the privilege of the underachievers.
Downtown is slip-sliding,
it used to be a place to be noticed,
a sex-gated area for outdoor passions.
Now the females
hold the hem of their skirts down,
and not because of the wind.
Dope is in the air.
Thieves scrabble and push,
dazed by the easy abundance.
Tourists duck and shelter
under dead teachers' desktops.
Come December,
the glass ball will hang by a thin fingertip.
The czars and the kings will hold on to their throne chairs
until they are dragged out kicking and screaming,
tweeting all the way to their dungeons.
Nuclear winter is a few years down the road, but global warming
will have people flocking to Kansas soon from Florida which
will drop into the sea.
The Texaco Shareholders and their families will build a wall,
and stay inside, breathing their own greed and selfishness.
Jesus will be saving other planets, not concerned at all about our silliness,
as we have so many wanna-bees here.
Stocks will go up and down, so many times. It will be called the
yo-yo year of the stock market.
The girl next door will develop narcolepsy and
refuse to come out of her house or answer the door,
not telling us it has flown into agoraphobia.
It will be the year of the PIG, and the pig will be orange
and be featured on balloons with diapers.
A misogynist bully-pig.
This is what I think.
Ask the government if you can die.
Frighten them at most.
Those who'd give you answers then
would have you as their host.
Cowards laws to break you in.
Them who'd crave the power.
Telling you confess to them.
Corruption they would tower.
All the agents flocking by.
People you'd leave cries.
Unimpressive power hounds.
Incompetence that tries.
Leading you to sure despair.
Following undone.
Sealing us a damning fate
to leaving us as one.
Hope to bring some help to us,
sealing of our faith.
Together looking out for us
when death comes for it's Saithe.
Fighting to bring out our values.
Nurture those who can.
For the value of a human being
may just be in the man.