Long Flyer Poems
Long Flyer Poems. Below are the most popular long Flyer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flyer poems by poem length and keyword.
He sat on the back steps of his house,
Looking at the sky,
Trying to figure out "Why?",
Why did the people who was suppose to love him made him sad,
All the time,
How could they be so mean to him,
They made him feel like dirt, like nobody.
He often tried to look for a sign that things will get better,
But they never did,
He prayed night and day for solace,
But still non came,
"why?" he asked again did he have to be treated this way.
One day he ran away where he thought no one could find him,
He thought to himself they would be free now,
They didn't have any burden anymore,
A family found him age 8 years old wondering the streets,
They asked "where are your family ?",
He said "I have non they're dead",
They felt sorry and took him in.
One day the same family saw a flyer on a window ,
With the sames little boy picture ,
It said "Missing Boy 8 years old,Son of Carol and James",
The family was confused they wondered why he said he didnt have any family,
When they asked he said they didnt love him.
That day when the little boy was taken back to his real family ,
His Mom and Dad was in tears ,
They told him they were sorry for taking him for granted ,
And made him feel like he was a nobody,
They loved him more than anything but their personal issues ,
Were taken out on him,
Fron that day was a new beginning for that little boy.
He was finally happy and felt like he belonged
Form:
Of all of Nature's creatures,
One I always have preferred
Is that frenzied and frenetic flyer
Called the hummingbird.
It drops by just sporadically
And flits from flower to flower,
With wings that flap so fast in search
Of nectar to devour.
I always fill my planters with
Bright blossoms blooming red,
'Cause hummingbirds prefer that hue
When looking to be fed.
Yet still, I only catch a glimpse
A few times every season.
They must prefer the solitude
Or have a private reason.
But though they choose to stay away
And only rarely visit,
Those few occasions thus become
More precious and exquisite.
The hummingbird I saw today
Sure vanished mighty quick,
But the smile it left upon my face
Will, much much longer, stick.
.
go ahead
laugh
but i wuz
i wuz born in prison
e-block
never mind
at 3
i wuz sent to juvie
for stealing
3 bubble gum machines
front two hardware
and one barbershop
fronts
they caught me pulling
my red
Radio Flyer
with the gadgets
in tow
at 18 they sent me
up state
for strong armed
bank robbery
2-5
out in 3
at 26
back to population
bank robbery
5yearz
32
fci
fled state in pursuit
armed robbery
bubble gum
machine factory
25 yearz
out 16
thuh
good behavior thingy
i'm think'n about run'n fo
i meant for
yes i did
hm
Congress
*y'all know this iz the double entendre
the "fancy flights" 1) the bubble gum heists in my
"red Radio Flyer" wagon; fleeing the scene and fleeing
capture, armed robbery"bubble gum machine factory"
the "fancy flights" 2) i made it up(artistic license ') shoot me ;)
Written: October 28, 2025
I press my palm against your shoulder,
dust-streaked and aged
You unfold before me.
Heat rises from the folds
between the tendon and the tender dough.
I savor a bite of the dough.
reminiscent of the stars I once folded,
now scattered,
akin to lost receipts
in a tempest.
I arrive with my stained skin, as a flyer
marred by hurried typos,
hastily printed
by a restless intern.
Here, I consume you wholly.
A vendor presents grief in palm-sized parcels,
with you wrapped in sensational headlines
That twists the truth.
I swallow every piece of you,
even the mustard staining the captions.
But then the rain begins—my likeness of you blurs,
my ink a wing in flight as a winged creature.
A man in uniform smiles and brushes
the sugar from my scalp
casting it into the tide, a final farewell.
That morning he headed off to the store as they were having a big sale
In life he was looking for more as lately things had become a little stale
It was Faith this department store was selling with every size and style
In walking through that door it was this need he thought of all the while
Each and every lonely night and all those heart aches and growing pains
How this life would so often slight even your own mind sometimes feigns
All of that continuing questioning of why, never once getting a real answer
In now giving this a try in beginning to see that there was only One cure
They had some popular door busters as the large crowds clamored around
From afar you could see their shiny lusters but close up none could be found
He quickly just skirted right past for he was looking for what was in that flyer
Something that would keep him through eternity this being his greatest desire
Off in the distance towards the back there was the Faith he saw in the ad
He now knew he was on the right track and not just hooked up in some fad
The warmth that was coming from the display warmed him inside and out
And in the continuing of making his way he was shedding all that old doubt
In the Cross he knew that it was real as soon his heart had began to break
He couldn't believe how it made him feel that Jesus had died for his sake
And as all those tears began to come a store clerk asked if he was alright
As this would seem strange to some, but not to those who've seen the Light
What a sad day
No more Easter bunny
I don't mean to laugh
But some tales are funny
I think in the end
It's really his fault
you would never guess
Who was locked in his vault
The bunny was Jealous
Of jolly old Saint Nick
He felt like second fiddle
To a jolly white haired prick
So when the vault door opened
He pushed old Nick inside
He thought to himself
I'll take his sleigh for a ride
Before he got going
He loaded eggs in the back
Each one carefully packed
In poor Santa's red sack
On Donner on Blitzen
They flew up in the sky
An inexperienced flyer
Is now a very dead guy
His tiny bunny body
Was bounced out from the sled
Rudolph tossed him out
So now the Bunny's dead
March 9th, 2013
Clue contest
GHOST ELEMENTAL
Lightning, currently water- currently fire, solid in spirit, ethereal flyer.
Vanishes upon completing its journey, by energys desire.
As a shapeshifter in exhale, flashing bare.
A streaker streaming in the light.
Fueled by its spirit airing its incorporeal lungs. God's trumpet
that turns on the night as you hear it, tingle your schlungs.
Fear it's song of judgment.
Kingdom come.
Plays on like a bassoon that meets a lyre, beats like a crash cymbal, pulses like creamy laser awakening Phoenix pyre.
Ghostly taser
with a breath of flare, saviour fare, it inhales, grinning bare.
Opening the seals. Waxing. Clean. Here to there, far to near.
Gods telegram on the wire. Natures tear.
It executes, judgment of the firmament, while darting out of site,
it warns, further encroachment,
like a woman allright.
One that just popped into the room with scorn, ready to fight.
Break out the holy water, no worries,
hell hath no fire. Valhalla no furies.
But now we have imagination to burn,
a reminder lesson we've urn ed.
As we scatter-worry. Repent in hybrid theory.
Of human elements ashes and dust,
purge a little purgatory, to learn or combust.
324.
Imagine the World without Butterflies
When I was a child, I was captivated
By colorful flowers beautifully painted
But what was that creature with floppy wings
Like a flower's frail petal, attraction it brings
If a flower below to the land decorates
That creature above to the air celebrates
To the dance of the wind giving music
Its every movement is a graceful lyric
This flimsy flyer they called “butterfly”
In its absence, the flowers cry
So come butterflies…come to the flowers!
They need your fantastically propitious powers!
Oh! Imagine the world without butterflies!
It's just like a chopsuey without spice
Music without notes, theater without actors
So safeguard these most artistic pollinators!
-01/28/2015
(Dumarao)
*Defense of the Animals Collection
An ugly little weed the grows with florets yellow,
the very common dandelion is a very humble fellow.
Some think ugly and go to great lengths to destroy,
but I recall as a child finding a "dande" was my joy.
I would collect a bouquet of ugly beauty for mother,
to place on her kitchen ledge- then give her another.
They spread and grow, their ugly seed a good flyer,
floating on the warm breezes to any place they desire.
Like little tiny parachutes they fly away into the wind,
leaving a really ugly dried up hull far, far, far behind.
Did you know that all the bee's and insects love them,
and that butterflies and all kinds of birds eat them.
People eat them too- the flower, leaves and roots,
but others want to stamp them out with their boots.
As a child we would blow on the seeds to make them fly,
making a wish as the seeds would up high, high, high.
Yes indeed, a dead dandelion is an ugly thing for sure,
but I find a great beauty in the floating seeds that endure.
________________________________
October 30, 2018
Poetry/Couplet/The Humble Dandelion
Copyright Protected, ID 10-1081-378-30
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
We lived in Charleston, West Virginia high up on a hill;
I wanted a Christmas present on which I’d catch some thrills.
Wooden slats anchored to curved blades of crimson red;
My fingers were crossed - Santa would bring a Red Flyer sled.
A rope in the handle bars to pull it up the mountain side,
I’ll wax down each metal blade to help make sure that it glides.
Snow we have a plenty up on the mountain top;
Laying on my tummy, dragging feet to make it stop.
You push on the handle piece in an attempt to make it steer,
But gravity is in control of that it is quickly clear.
You sled all day and then thaw out by the burning fire,
Thanking Santa and his elves for the new Red Flyer.