Long Frequents Poems
Long Frequents Poems. Below are the most popular long Frequents by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frequents poems by poem length and keyword.
There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.
The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees lean in from the edge
creating a haven in the shelter below
for smelt or gudgeon, and the common minnow.
There’s a ring on the water, so danger is nigh,
and life is now over for one caddis fly.
Dragonflies hover on their predator flight,
so mosquito and midges best keep out of sight.
There is many a song around a billabong
to break up the still with an assembly throng
from birds of the forest, and wading birds too,
so the billabong offer is there to pursue...
... for blue heron and egret, coot and the teal,
and for the banded rail that the bulrush conceal.
In the billabong shadowed by gum and ti-tree,
bellbirds are tinkling; wattlebirds disagree.
An oft-diving grebe keeps on searching for food
for the striped downy chicks of its latest brood,
and a hunting kingfisher waits keen for its prey
from a twig of a gum tree it frequents all day.
There is many a scent around a billabong,
filling the air with the perfume quite strong,
from black wattle and mint bush, or mistletoe
cascading from gum trees where only they grow.
Painted lady butterfly flit upon flowers,
and blue banded bees keep on working for hours
on lilies and orchids, heath, sweet appleberry
and clusters of flowers on a native cherry.
Ribbon weed, nardoo spread out in the shallow,
with buttercup, duckweed; an introduced mallow,
struggling for survival near the water line,
aiding coral pea that does lightly entwine.
The banks of a billabong are dangerous too
with predator snakes not so often in view,
but they are aware, that the growling grass frog
will climb from the water onto an old log.
But tigers and copperhead, red-bellied black
often lay in the sun on an overgrown track,
where the wombat or wallaby travel along
to graze on native grasses near the billabong.
So life still carries on around the billabong
where water looks stagnant, a bond is still strong
with a river now rushing it’s way to the sea,
past the billabong living, where the course used to be.
An abode you can drive down a road is a trip,
but the learning curve’s steep. It’s a help to be rich,
strong, and good with your hands (for things often go wrong
that you will not expect). All support’s a trip too:
fun can stop for repairs - your transmission goes out
at some watering hole where you’re barely a guest.
A rebuilt one located takes days to arrive.
You’re hung out on a limb with relationships cash-
based, though credit cards help. With a vaporware smile
and some luck, a motel has a room you can wait.
At some point, you’ll be glad a towed car’s on your plate
for just parking a motor home can take a while.
Overnights on the streets of a city are rash,
but a grocery store parking lot helps one survive
for a night in a pinch. Cops uncalled, let you rest.
If you buy some supplies, it will give you more clout.
I am happy I bought mine though big trips were few.
A gas engine, no slide-outs, I stole for a song
in year slide-outs and diesel were salesmen’s fresh pitch.
But low tag fees, no property tax floats my ship!
Farms have Quonsets to soften Dakota through time,
hide from hail, sun, and blizzards, a part of the year.
Coach revives, as my residence, when I am there
with the usual hookups, propane, and TV.
But one April, the snow where it parks saw a drift
that eclipsed a man’s height more than corn grows (rains bless).
Weeks would pass till it melted, ground firmed, spring wheat drilled!
But the highways kept clear, a spot found I could park
where Missouri’s clear waters reflected cloud’s path,
and fish leaped as they struck hard and tasted hook’s bait.
I’m a poet who frequents cast lines till they rhyme
and replace my lost bait with a new thought as dear.
Souls and poems will bloom that we offer our care
though we see droughts occur and earth’s water’s not chi.
May some readers drift with me when words are a gift,
have a color they own that eclipses their dress.
Bait rejected? God bless! If you chow down, I’m thrilled.
Who would want to burn rubber alone in the dark?
With a transparent purpose, I don’t fear God’s wrath.
Pray rhymed sojourns bring respite, share love, and not hate.
Brian Johnston
12th of September in 2021
Poet’s Note:
A new metered poem that uses what I call ‘distant rhyme.’
With the onset of advancing age, so I find,
A man grows weary of all mundane talk;
Occupies his every spare, idle thought
With that of the slow, reflective kind.
Regretful of many a squandered hour,
Turning his back on the squabbling nations,
Their woeful, self-serving deliberations,
Dreams wistfully of his own starlit tower.
Should he hopefully find that blessed stair,
Wound insides of the ancient, dim lit wall,
Where tread from unseen feet sometimes fall,
He could but elevate himself above his cares;
There, throwing his soul upon the night,
Lift his gaze upon a tumultuous crowding!
His thinning pate adorned with a crowning
From a far-flung, pale, distant light.
And if he was to fix his mind upon that point;
To that moment forcefully bring to bear,
With every ounce of fibre when stood there,
An unremitting will to somehow exploit,
That, which, the mystics so jealously guarded...
Then, perhaps, he might too ascend?
For, in all reality, at the very end,
All is thrown off...the very body discarded.
Therefore I will choose my own finality.
I give my remaining days to old worn steps
Enclosed in rock, a turret that silhouettes
Against an endless sky; and if it should be
That I find such hallowed battlements
Give aging legs the strength to slowly climb,
To praise the celestial and sublime,
When reaching up where my God frequents.
For though those stars seem out of reach,
Unattainable by grand, omnipotent design,
Nevertheless I am thusly to be inclined
To offer up a prayer and unto him beseech:-
"Immortal father who created mortal man,
Ye who sits above all earthly thrones,
Give unto me old tools and rubbled stones,
And I shall endeavour to do what I can...
To rebuild that abandoned, crumbled tower...
For, Lord, be it only by dreams men are
Truly empowered"!
Deborah’s Grandfather was fond of saying, other than at Thanksgiving, turkeys had no worth
for he believed that turkeys were the stupidest creatures on Earth.
He told stories of turkeys innocently and ignorantly standing on the ground
and staring up into the rain so long…they ultimately drowned…
Of course we know this isn’t true….and the reason for her grandfather’s sarcasm
is a genetic condition in turkeys called titanic torticollar spasms.
In truth we know turkeys are quite social creatures who also have big hearts
and contrary to what old farmers think…turkeys are quite smart.
I felt the need to test these competing theories…I figured it wouldn’t be hard
and for my test case I would use the turkey family that frequents our back yard.
They travel through once a day looking for the things that turkeys eat…stopping for a rest…which gave me the perfect opportunity to put my theory to the test.
I started taking handfuls of birdseed, “Hello turkeys!” I would say
then I’d toss those handfuls to them…at first they ran away.
Eventually however…those hungry turkeys found their way back
and seemed to be enjoying their complimentary mid-day snack.
The next day when I saw them in the yard…I greeted them…then tossed them seeds
eventually establishing a routine….as they became accustomed to our Balsam House cuisine.
Now the turkeys perch on the fence near our cabin…under an old chestnut tree
and If I don’t see them when they arrive…they gobble up at me.
“Hello turkeys! I yell to them as I hurry out the door…
then toss them the handfuls of seeds I know they’re waiting for.
So there you have it proof that turkeys are quite smart…no longer should we disdain them…
after all look how easy with some birdseed it was for me to train them.
However…as I watch them enjoying their mid day snack as happy as turkeys can be
I have to wonder when I hear them gobble from atop the fence…
If I was training them…or they were training me?
Whatever the answer…when I see them…my pride I can’t contain…
Hey…I notice it’s beginning to sprinkle…and they are gobbling…
I think I’ll go outside and join them…staring at the rain.
Illinois, Winter of 1920
Fair crystal-like turquoise crowns o'er heartland
while townsfolk are quite briefed on purchasing,
for those who dressed warmly had only planned,
meant shopping, browsing, eat-out ere praying.
While townsfolk are quite briefed on purchasing,
comparing, what's-in, plus what's-not, prattling,
meant shopping, browsing, eat-out ere praying,
stained-glass color-filled lights, and choir singing.
Comparing, what's-in, plus what's-not, prattling,
whilst child-filled dreams on pews awaiting toys,
stained-glass color-filled lights, and choir singing
trained their soprano voice from youthful boys.
Whilst child-filled dreams on pews awaiting toys,
countenance donning smiles midst fellow poise,
trained their soprano voice from youthful boys,
stretched course nineteen-twenty cores Illinois.
Countenance donning smiles midst fellow poise,
frequents childhood thoughts freshly occasions,
stretched course nineteen-twenty cores Illinois,
precedes squandered Asians, midst Caucasians.
Frequents childhood thoughts freshly occasions,
changed Santa and elf wrapped presents then hid,
precedes squandered Asians, midst Caucasians,
sung winter songs nigh ice pond where'd we skid.
Changed Santa and elf wrapped presents then hid,
blinking light-hues rounds decked-out scented tree,
sung winter songs nigh ice pond where'd we skid,
Santa plus elf served glazed doughnuts and tea.
Blinking light-hues rounds decked-out scented tree,
for those who dressed warmly had only planned,
Santa plus elf served glazed doughnuts and tea,
fair crystal-like turquoise crowns o'er heartland.
2020 December 18
The muddle of sleep—
The grand entrance to Morpheus' legendary palace
In whole or half a tablet;
Easy breaths of chemicals
In pretty, light-refracting bottles.
I prepare myself for an escorted journey
To where dreams float from their origin
Like glossy bubbles through netted neurons
I am the keeper of sedatives—
An expert in manoeuvring through fallen thoughts
Don't they know I need sleep too?
I need this perceived travel through time
To kiss my lips—
To enter slowly with its glowing tongue
And seduce my mind into a comfortable numbness—
To lug it, like a limp body,
Away from the sounds of rubber through rain
Onto a restful shore.
Yes,
I do vie
For my senses to trip, drunkenly,
Over one and other
Like a vague rolling wave in cloudy space.
It is actually a religion
Or maybe I'm confusing it with religious consumption—
Swallowing rotund solidity
Like a whore swallows fluidity.
This is not ecstasy
This is prescribed tranquility, so it's OK.
Okay, and infinitely sweeter,
Because it does not put me in a hot air balloon
With a finite fire.
I don't ever need to descend;
Just open my eyes to the sun through my blinds
Society is dancing on my back
Across my stomach
Trying to expel the demon inside me.
I love these molecular robots;
They drift with a purpose and close the dock
Where insomnia frequents.
Afternoon shakes off grogginess,
The invisible lotus leaf
Stamped on my brow,
And pulls me up the conscious ladder.
I don't want to be here.
Circles of slumber—those precious pills
Are always as good as I want them to be—
As I beg them to be—
As I need them to be.
Form:
A young man frequents our bookstore looking for sports books that interest him
and…when we happens to spy them…
he asks us to hold them for him until he has enough money to buy them.
He was in the other night and immediately his gaze
fell upon a book about the L. A. Lakers and one about Willy Mays.
As he went back and forth between the two books….he looked a bit bemused…
You see, both books cost ten dollars…which made it hard for him to choose
He finally decided on Willy Mays…
and when I asked if he wanted us to hold it he said, “That would be great!
I’ll have enough money by the end of next week.”
Then looking back he said, “I guess the Lakers will have to wait.”
After he left…an older man whom I’ve never seen before…
but who obviously is kind-hearted…
brought the L. A. Laker book up to the counter saying,
“I’d like to buy this and the Willy Mays book for the man who just departed.”
I thanked this man profusely…and as I put the two books into a gift bag
I asked him if on the bag there was anything he wanted to say…
He shook his head and smiled,
“Just tell the young man when he comes back…
to enjoy the books and have a nice day.”
I don’t know if I’ll ever see this man again…
but I shall forever remember the kindness he showed that day…
when he bought a book about the L. A. Lakers
and one about Willy Mays…
Yes, in a world where hatred, greed and evil…is running rampant…
it’s a moment I’ll never forget…
the day a man I never knew spent twenty dollars on two books
to give to a man he never met.
Fare thee be well to stranger and kin
Another story do tell of Universal Law them
Signal frequents sent in alternating from him
All in regards to glowing of little gem
She wraps her arms around the dark of the night
Encompassing in him and all around him is her light
Nine personalities there do be
All creating the one in thee
Understanding and hearing them all
Requires the one to build a proper wall
They be the building blocks in you
Seven see; A, E, I, O, and U
All be parts of the fellowship ring you
I – ntelligence Supreme supplying energy behind all steam
E- go driven attitude is mentally meant to allude
A – lpha has spoken and only heard by thee awakened
E – motional feelings multiplying by floor and ceiling
I – mpulse sensitivity senses all mirror double dealing
O – rigination of desires conspire or inspire both indeed start fires
U – nderlying seed does feed the one base need
Next side be side these two titans see
Thor or Asgard, The Thunder Hammer of desires origination
And, Thee lovable Hulk, Harmonic underlying seed lacking knowledge is base need
Thrust into battle they go
These be their armies in tow
Having many different names though
Hulk and Thor’s higher and lower self
All four picked from amongst these
Blocks that be on the shelf
Being amongst these ye can perceive
As well as retrieve
Words that appear in tea’s leaves
These warriors do be
Constants these
Armies all ye B, C, D…
F, G, H, J, K, L, M, N, P, Q, R, S, T, V, W, X, Y, Z
Multiples of three
Be in rhapsody
Form:
He visits the coffee shop every week
On Thursday, his personal treat
Buys skinny latte, with biscotti
Then takes his regular seat
In the alcove, by the window
Sits to watch the world go past,
With book taken from his ‘man-bag’
Settles, to enjoy his repast
He used to come in with his ‘Mrs’
Now he frequents on his own,
Looking out of the window, and reading
He’s content with sitting alone
Odd times, when the shop is busy
Someone will take up the opposite chair
Some, if inclined, he’ll talk to
Most, he won’t notice are there
He’s happy in his own world
Simply, just getting by
At times, he looks so lonely
It breaks my heart, and I could cry
There must be others, in the world like him
Widowed, divorced, estranged,
Who keep on going through the ‘old routine’,
Living in fear of change
Acting out the old adage of ‘life goes on’
When they lose husband, partner or wife,
Sticking with the same day to day regimes
To help them muddle through life
Maintaining the familiar,
Can help you to stay strong,
Until the day you find yourself ready for change;
You’ll feel the time’s right to move on
Until that day for ‘The Man in the Window’ arrives
He’ll keep visiting every week,
Persisting in his habitual routine
To find the solace he seeks
For now, he sips the last of his coffee,
Neatly packs away his tome;
With a nod of farewell to the barista’s
Solitarily, leaves, to head home.
Bridal Party- what horses have when they get new saddles
al dente' vegetables- vegetables hard enough to dent your teeth
Oregano- the Italian section of a northwestern state
John Doe- a hooved animal that frequents prostitute deer
Civil Defense- fighting off an aggressor politely
Plaster of Paris- an extremely strong French cognac
Macaroni and Sneeze- a person allergic to pasta
Mushrooms- rooms for people to sit in and feel sorry for themselves
Shock and Awe- someone who says "Awe, shucks!" when they watch you stick
your finger in an electric socket
Love Seat- a person's fondness for sitting down.
"Quality Time"- an expensive Rolex
"Strip Mall"- a shopping mall for nudists
Console Organ- trying to make your sorrowful electric organ feel better
Poison Ivy- giving strychnine to your hen-pecking wife Ivy
"Justifiable Homicide"- killing "Billy Mays" of TV commercial infamy
"Shipping and Handling"- mysterious outrageous charges for "free" stuff
"Foster Child"- an adolescent drinking Australian Foster Lager beer
"Law Practice"- Why are they still practicing? When will they get to know it?
"Trick or Treat"- whether you are the "Hooker" or the "John"
Remember- sometimes I add more to these, so check back every once in awhile.
Anyone is welcome to add their's....we are "family", after all. tom