Long Fold up Poems
Long Fold up Poems. Below are the most popular long Fold up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fold up poems by poem length and keyword.
It stands in the middle of the field looking furiously across the distance with its two ears shooting in the sky and its adrenaline rising up in its feet and running around with fear.
What is the meaning in this when you are trying to get away from the precipice, the corners around it are very steep and it is walking towards the middle of the street running around in circle and doing a double dance.
The morning starts off with a bang with lots of media bangarang , pundits and commentators, deal breakers and opinion makers all gather around the town looking at full moon, and the miracle to be declared at noon.
It has been months of wrangle tangling and more than a hundred thousand hours of deal making and trucks full of negotiation driving up and down the street.
It alone knows what it wants, and it can only be said in expressions or in a few words moving slowly from the lips; it is not to be written on paper or fold up in a diaper but to be tendered gently and delivered with the rush of the breeze.
The horse is still walking around the track with a miracle mounted on its back and the sole of its feet has a marking that will show you how to enter the dome and exchange the throne.
Two phases are over and some people have just crossed over, the mountain is clear but the ambush is drawing near, a chicken in the middle of the street will make your heartbeat, it is unusual to see chickens in the middle of a busy street when traffic is flowing in several direction, and if you see a reindeer coming out of the bush leave that place quickly it might be an ambush .
The grape is running up the vine, the tension has decreased and the officials have taken to the street to stand in solidarity with the horse and the moose. I am wounded but I am not done yet, I will make your body sweat, I will go the extra miles until you breakdown and cry and I will lift you up and mount you on the horse and take you home.
when you think of a woman giving birth your first thought is the labor pains
the struggle a woman endures so that mankind will forever remain
but in the spiritual realm giving birth is not just a woman's role
it involves every human being for it's about the evolution of one's soul
it consists of first perceiving the gifts and blessings that God has for you
then it's about letting go of the fears, the sins and those issues you need to work through
in the book of Jeremiah God made a statement that was bold and strong
He said He knew of us in the womb before any of us were born
He set each of us apart and gave us each an anointing
He made a promise to each of us and gave us all an appointing
we all have a purpose to fulfill and a task He desires we perform
we're all here for a reason and that's why we were born
but in order for your Godly gifts to manifest
the labor pains of spiritual birth you must address
and in order for you to spiritually grow
the seeds of God's wisdom you must now sow
it's time for you to give birth
to discern your purpose here on earth
don't be in such a hurry as a fetus needs time to formulate
for the gestation period is the time to sit back and wait
you want the baby to develop completely and fully
and not run the risk of having any birth deficiencies
and once that child is born be mindful of the things that it ingests
give it the bread of life to eat and the living water to quench its thirst
then train it up in the ways of God and tell it about Jesus the Christ
and that child will never stray far from the Christian life
it's time to give birth to be reborn and be renewed
it's time to give birth to the spirit of God that now dwells in you
there will be some sacrifice, some concessions and surely some pain
but you have to walk through the fire in order to remove those sinful stains
as a new babe in Christ have no fear, don't be weak and fold up your tent
God has so much in store for you, His blessings, gifts and presence
it's time to give birth by stirring up those Godly gifts that are inside of you
it's time to give life to the things that God has pre-destined for you to do
The beaten clay of the market road is thick and heavy underfoot,
clinging to the tires of purple line 7 seaters and boots of the commuters.
The silence of the Kasane tarmac feels a thousand miles away
the moment I step across the border line and drop into the shouting of the crowd,
where the zinc sheets of the stall roofs are still dripping onto the mud from the sudden downpour.
I navigate the narrow lanes, my sneakers sinking into the wet, rutted earth,
as the sharp smell of dried kapenta mixes with roasting maize and hot diesel exhaust.
The money changers lean past my shoulders, aggressively flashing thick bricks of Kwacha notes,
their voices competing with the loud, erratic vibration of a petrol generator
that someone is fueling with a plastic funnel just a few steps away from the food stalls.
The woman who sells tomatoes doesn’t look up as I squeeze past her wooden crate;
she is entirely focused on using a piece of cardboard to sweep the muddy water away,
her plastic apron heavily stained with the dark juice of crushed vegetables.
Beside her, a trader aggressively unpacking secondhand jackets from a damp canvas bale,
shouting out prices to consumers who keep their heads down, calculating the cost of a meal.
A couple of young men stand huddled together under the narrow shelter of the butchery awning,
their smartphones held high toward the sky to catch a flickering network signal after the storm.
They are talking loudly about a music gig in Lusaka, using big words and forced laughter,
trying to pretend that the wet mud on their jeans doesn’t tell the true story of their morning hustle,
but the market doesn't care about their city pretenses.
It only asks that you look closely at the people who do not have the luxury of quitting,
and that you write down their names exactly as they are written in the mud.
The afternoon sun begins to drop behind the floodplains, turning the puddles into sheets of orange light.
The freight trucks bound for the north begin to rev their engines, waiting for the customs gates to clear,
while the vendors slowly fold up their damp tarpaulins for the night.
I walk out toward the edge of the clearing, leaving the smell of wood smoke and wet earth behind,
as the market closes its books and prepares to do the exact same thing tomorrow.
We sat beneath a night sky of graduated charcoals, blacks and interstellar blues. Fall’s begun its indispensable work, banishing the harsh sun, the creepy lanternflies and hot summer nights.
The stars seemed hesitant tonight, like they feared the sun might change its mind, reverse its course and run them back off - except one, which Peter says is Jupiter (and therefore not a star at all).
We were (Peter, Sunny, Anna and I), studying, in our fold-up lounge chairs and reading by little kindle lights clipped on our books. Leong’s there too - supposedly studying - but in reality, she was waiting for her date.
Leong and Sile have been flirting since last year and tonight’s their first, official date. Leong’s never been on a western date before or ever been alone with a boy in a car. She’s only seen romance in movies or from afar, like an astronomer viewing a distant moon through a telescope.
Her outfit, though casual, was coalesced from six wardrobes and no king or questing knight has ever been dressed more carefully or with greater ceremony. She even positioned her chair at a carefully chosen angle, to show her, initially, in her best light - “Zhù ni hao yùn!” She insisted (It’s good luck).
She’s a gorgeous, brilliant, amazing woman with a razor-thin veneer of amorous confidence. I know my nerves playup when I’m uncertain about things, but Leong’s playing it off, acting casual.. ish.
Finally, with an almost physical jolt, she saw him enter the quad. As he approached, his every aspect was scrutinized by vigilant, overprotective roommates. The air was filled with the whispered buzz of shared analysis.
Soon they were walking off together and chuckling at something we couldn’t hear. It’s funny, I’ve never felt so much like a parent.
our porch shows what hillbillies live like
because we might as well be from Arkansas or Tennessee
We are creekers – people who live in van down by the river
stepladder, two side tables, one long glass table
glider, barbeque grill, shovels, spades, garden gloves
straw hat, hoe, mud-caked wheeled cart
six twelve-packs of water
dog kennel for a nine- hundred -pound dog
(which we have never used)
mismatched lawn furniture
broken umbrella
refrigerator, full sized, not one of those pussy ones
two night stands
giant fan with dog hair stuck to it
fold up chairs that were dragged in mud
sign with two cartoon dogs
the sign says welcome to our home
Buddy and Beau
It should say Welcome to Hillbilly Heaven
Heyyy friend, since we always UP to something, I wanna give a tribute to the word UP, because everyday of our life we do something meaningful with the word up.
So with that being said, I wanna know, what’s UP with you?
How many of these UPs did you do today?
hurry up, stand up, start up, write up
raise up, push up, speed up, mark up, fill up
come up, pull up, step up, climb up
drive up, straighten up, cheer up, tear up
rise up, lift up, run up, clean up, buckle up
chin up, pin up, put up, shut up
get up, sit up, hit up, spit up
woke up, broke up, spoke up
boot up, toot up, man up, hand up
chew up, blew up, screw up
walk up, talk up, hype up, type up
dress up, mess up, fold up, hold up
wake up, make up, break up
toss up, boss up, lay up, pay up
look up, hook up, took up, shook up
tighten up, lighten up, wrap up, strap up
save up, gave up, head up, made up
lick up, stick up, pick up
slip up, whip up, rip up, zip up
stock up, lock up, knock up
go up, show up, grow up, throw up, blow up
but never ever slow up
pop up, hop up, mop up, stop up
burn up, turn up, stuck up, luck up, f’k up
heat up, eat up, beat up, feet up
back up, pack up, rack up, jack up, stack up
but never ever slack up
I did a lot of these UPs today, but most importantly, I Stayed up and Prayed up…
Well, my “time UP,” lol
So what’s up? Can you think of any I missed?
DREAM VISITOR
DREAM VISITOR
Welcome intruder of my private world
visiting me at the twilight of my sleep
finishing with me into the deep slumber.
Satisfying me into completeness
dream visitor, you have come again
to ravish me and to make me shy.
I see your shadow, I feel your presence
about me, you live inside me, lay atop of
my nudity, arousing sensuous stimuli,
causing spontaneous imploding- and tremors.!
My senses go haywire, starting a-fire, I am now lit.
You then let me shoulder in all that you have
induced. I lie there, desire-ring nothing-
squirming in tranquility.
Upon awakening I am shy, As I appear
to you in reality, somehow you have to know.
My brain has scattered as I fold-up like a
Chinese-fan before your very eyes
I run away when I see you in the day.
Afraid that my eyes may reveal, or betray me;
You must know, you were there in spirit and it seems.
In daylight you mock me.
When your spirit visits my dreams, it is impossible
that we are not both inclined, to have arrive at this apex
same time; Are you my coitus ghost?
fulfilling me to the utmost.?
In reality, when I see you, I lose all my of my faculties.
I avoid you in the daytime too; Upon laying eyes on you.
I forget what I came to say or do. If I look at you;
Immediately sensations rush through.
The fact of the matter is, like a school-girl I am flattered
At the twilight of my sleep you enter. As you ignite and
quell fires in me, ecstatically overwhelmed- You finish me.
leaving me conquered by your rapture' visitor.
O' intruder of my slumber- O' Dream visitor of mine.
I gain control by staying busy all the day;
wanting to exhaust myself - Thus the only way to
prevent your visit, I must, and keep you beyond
the barriers of my deep slumber.
Tonight, I deeply sleep, becoming totally
in-cognizant; You will need consent.
I must not lose control of my dreams.
I cannot lose control of my dreams to
this ravenous intruder who satisfies me beyond reality.!
Tonight, your spirit will not demand my flesh-
I wild hide behind the sound wall of exhaustion.
Even though I have never known such contentment,
O’ prowess of Morpheus. O' dream intruder-
the morning after is too confounding!
They packed their picnic basket s and journeyed towards the sun, with boxes of liquor, creates of beers and a drum fill with carbonated soda; busloads of them, drove down the slopes, with dug out boats and makeshift floats.
They traveled with the band, guitar and key board fold up in their hand, with cymbals and steel drum resting on their shoulder; they braved the heat and cross the street.
They were all in a jubilant mood so they set off to have fun in the radiant sun. Hundreds of them landed on the beach in the sweltering heat and pitch their tents. They stare at the distance as the ferocious waves wash against their feet.
Big ships start rolling in, and the carnival boat began to sing, the music was pounding and the people were dancing and chanting to the rhythms. Some were waving hand kerchief, and handmade flags, people of all races colors and creeds mingled together while the big ship cruise towards shore.
The ship came to a sudden stop and several small boats ferried the people towards the shore. Their bright colors blended with the sun drove their passion to the extreme and so the party began.
Meanwhile the band on the shore, sets off a different score and the people went wild stirring their soul to the extreme. Drunken men sprawl out on the beach, hugging the sand with a bottle of beer in the other hand while the unfaithful woman walks around entertaining the men without gown.
The beach party was in full swing and people continue to pour in; boat loads and the ship loads of people crowd the shore. I noticed something strange from a distance; blood was washing around the side of the ship, the exact spot that that destiny was walking in. It wasn’t a gun man or a family man; it was a school of shark that surrounds the boat mauling the passenger in their throat as they leave the boat.
The blood thirsty sharks mauled twenty-one people to death without a shot fired or an action discovered. No shouts or scream not even a whisper was heard, they all died silently in their dreams.
The carnage took place in the middle of the sea and the sharks slowly pulled the captain’s body to the bottom of the ocean..The beach party continues in full swing and the light on the beach never grows dim.
A love affair with fingers
May seem dumb to some
If only their brain cells would linger
The depth of the matter plumb
Fingers play sonatas and arpeggios
Hold the spoon for to eat Cheerios
They fold up into tight fists
Unfolded, help to play whist
They tap out rhythms on desks and tables
Of so many things are they able
So, why shouldn’t we love our fingers
One can even be 'given'
to lunatic left or right-wingers
What if my doggy could learn how to read?
Would the library have all the books he might need?
Would he study the types and the traits of his breed?
What if my doggy could learn how to read?
What if my doggy could write me a note?
Would he fold up the paper and sail it by boat?
Could I make heads or tails of the things that he wrote?
What if my doggy could write me a note?
What if my doggy knew how to do math?
Would he add up the hours that passed 'till his bath?
Or subtract yellow flowers from grass on the path?
What if my doggy knew how to do math?
What if it turned out my doggy could talk?
Would he stop every stranger he met on his walk?
Would he babble and bop while they stood there in shock?
What if it turned out my doggy could talk?
My doggy can't write, or subtract, or chit chat,
but he IS good at catch and at chasing the cat
and at racing to me from the place he was sat,
just to
lick
my
whole
face...!
And I'm happy with that.
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