Long Funnels Poems
Long Funnels Poems. Below are the most popular long Funnels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Funnels poems by poem length and keyword.
Clouds Above
By Franklin Price
1/27/2017
Clouds above collecting
Moisture from below
Then precipitating
H2O to go
Forming into rain drops
Snowflakes in the cold
Fog on misty mornings
Weather is foretold
Ground waits for the moisture
Watered seeds will pop
If clouds never happened
Life would also stop
Clouds are entertaining
Viewed on puffy days
New scenes are uncovered
Put there on display
Our imaginations
Limit what we see
Animals of all kinds
Often there for me
Rising sun reflected
Catch fire at the set
Flashing bolts of lightning
Cloud to cloud we get
Some clouds turn to funnels
Some to hurricanes
Wreaking havoc on us
Bringing death and pain
Clouds always affect us
Cry their tears and go
Leaving only blue skies
For the earth below
two boys racing
dash, dart, tear
airburst in a clearing punched open
arms of piston pumping disperse white funnels
dandelion fluff curling
scattering flowered stems
as water streaked, streams down joyful faces
clearing,
a clawed out seclusion
child claimed freedom unspooling in summer heat
pulling back its gauzy veil
pushed to disarray
in this seething space, holding promise
two boys, breath weary, tumble into the tall grass
laugh and roll,
confessions shared like wanting to drift somewhere
- imaginary to real
claiming turf needing no repair
stories whispered before they're pushed off the page
in a green clearing, its window-heavy future
till tall tales take a different slant
to rest like beaded sweat
upon lined brows
Poem composed February 21, 2023
OBSESSION OF SOAPS
obsessed with the daylight hours
specifically the graven-image afternoon
like high place dungeon towers
calgon’s commercial didn’t “take me away”
but a clever string of soaps did the trick
yes ~ for three “wholesome” hours every day
like following a clever treasure map
i lived for “all my children”
Such lovely drivel and maple sap
for health’s sake visited “general hospital”
after all, i have only “one life to live”
where i delved into the incredible and impossible:
clever tales, like candles in tunnels
where danger lurks, and romance,
with abundant pleasures, funnels
stories old as time itself ~
they were my sweet craving
on a lovely built in shelf
kept me sane until they drove me insane
a drip drip of sand through an hourglass
i envisioned myself with false teeth and a cane
only when my husband and kids
began to refer to them as “my soaps”
did i realize my life on the skids,
and like a potion i’d been pedaled
did i remove the suds from my eyes
in my lightbulb-brain, it was settled!
who wants to see a gravestone:
“HERE LIES MY SPOUSE WHO LIVED FOR HER SOAPS”
7/21/2017
Contest - Obsession
*True so many years ago. I don’t watch them anymore :)
Dream of fond daze when colours blaze,
Obey your heart that knows just how.
Hope funnels craze to steer life's maze,
Embrace fine start right here and now;
Align dear soul with light that shows,
Reach stillness deep that lights the spark.
Touch a clear whole that helps you know,
Heed what life heaps yet find your mark;
Allow for time and space to groove,
Thrill each brave stride with passion bold.
Delight your chimes with easy moves,
Appoint firm rides to now unfold;
Remember this: Keep spirits high,
Enlist pure bliss in happy sighs.
Leon Enriquez
28 April 2016
Singapore
My navigation seems as though toward eternity,
Though I'm alone, I could feel an unknown fraternity;
Surrounding the highway, both sides, are beautiful greenbelts,
While passing the mountainous paths from peaks rocks soft snow melts...!
I started alone from the darkness of obscurity,
Fate, midst kith and kin, has been my constant security;
Each season of summer, spring, autumn, winter, and monsoon,
I've been moving through a grand universal rhythmic tune...!
The path is not, always, symmetrically straight and smooth,
Scenes and landscapes do not always, sensory organs sooth;
Turns, twists, terrifically tricky titanic tunnels,
Hills and mountains that resemble black brown and grey funnels...!
Graves like Pits, ditches, drenches, potholes, and patch-ups pop up,
Dogs, cats, cows, donkeys, horses, and even wild beasts mix up;
Wrong-side, drunk, speedaholic, wreckless, and ruthless drivers,
Men and women who ignore signals and road-dividers...!
My aim, midst these, like a river toward the sea, is clear,
Day or night winter or summer, I have nothing to fear;
Humans or animals I meet, good or bad, I confront,
I drive ahead, calm and quiet, fighting each battlefront...!!!
21 January 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 34 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Uninterrupted gurgle of nature,
From creator's heavenly reservoirs;
Bubbling, rippling, trickling white trans-nature,
Ceaselessly penning watery memoirs;
Is Tethys, the water-goddess, weeping?
Or eternally shedding tears of joy?
Or constantly irrigating the earth?
Immaculate white pearls are seen creeping,
Midst white-noise, as though rough pebbles decoy,
Angelic water tentatively mirth...!!!
It is, indeed, a revelation, grand,
That the Angel falls has her connection;
To India, my precious mother land,
With her cosmically linking flexion;
There's a young celestial Indian kid,
Who could speak the language of every bird,
And make them mesmerized by his power;
Magic and charming enchantments he did,
Each plant and tree, in his hands, he did gird,
He took huge pleasure in sun and shower...!
Crescent tumult of cascading funnels,
Erupting, like water-volcanoes, hot;
Twisting and turning through rocky tunnels,
Caressing and Kissing even soil rot;
Did the Absolute, in your dream, prompt you,
To quench each grass those earnestly aspire,
That a little drop of yours wet their lips...?
When I touched and hugged you I received too,
Blazing of the Holy-Ghost-like fire,
That, so far, like my mother's love, tight-grips...!!!
03 May2022
Blakean ghosts' boasts..frollicking in rollicking
Rolling hillock hosts..ripe shenanigans..perry toasts
Believing in hefty heaving heroes
Hallowed harbingers..halcyon hedgerows
Harbouring tranches of branches..ferry very merry berries
Majestic mosaic montage barge of balletic
Incandescent flowers..weaving wherries
Showering prophetic kaleidoscopic poetic dreams
Streams through towering mesmeric green tunnels
Full to the gunnels..reams of sheens teem..flowing funnels
Bestowing.. glowing transcendent beams gleam kinetic
Luminescent aesthetic barrage..overpowering iridescent fluorescent flowering
Every single one of Mother nature's tendrils tingle
Mingle..saluting seasonal succour..mooting rebooting from fruiting..pukka
Watch what wit weaves
Sense sensual storms
Listen lost leaves
Flight funnels form
Love lingers long
Slow stillness seeps
Soul sleep scents strong
Drowsy dives deep
Willows why weep?
Glimpse grand good grace
Scary screams seep
Freeze forlorn face
Success says sure
Work weaves wise will
Ask apt allure
Faith fills fond feel
Think thoughts that touch
Etch end endow
Mind maze moves much
New needs nudge now
Word wise work well
Calm charms caress
Deep desire dwells
Apt arts address
Grace grants grand gifts
Urge unzips urge
Loving life lifts
Stay sacred surge
Leon Enriquez
11 Mar 2014
Singapore
passion rolls in on storm clouds
the thunder heart rumbles and roars
the lightning touch
its electric
sizzling on grounds skin
raising grass hairs and goose flesh roots
the deep earthy core is yearning
as hurried breath blows
areas once covered in beauty now exposed and vulnerable
entreating the heavens
the heavens comply to these drying pools
with gentle butterfly kisses of mist and drizzle
earth trembles, shy to the first caress
then crying out in joyful abandon
as ardour fuels drizzle into plump droplets
raining down, splashing,
penetrating with rising urgent vigour
and thunder heart rumbles and roars
more lightning electric touches caress with a crackle
while rapid breath on earths skin is dogged and unrelenting
and the storm rages on
the water funnels and flows
covering earths vulnerability in torrents of bliss
reaching down into the very core
until excess overflows
out of once dry pools now brimming with contentment
the crescendo reached
crashing din ebbing away in soft butterfly kisses of drizzle once more
finally halting in a deafening silence of release
only a gentle drip dripping
as trees shake off final droplets of proof that it ever was
The dawn is fresh and new
the landscape is flushing with emerging growth
alive with hidden prosperity
Breath in the wonder
of this beautiful new day
the bliss after the storm
Boreas, the North Wind
I am in Iceland, 90 miles from the Arctic Circle,
walking through a gorge in a valley between
European and North American plates. Fierce
Boreas funnels its headstrong wind right at me
tears my knit hat off my head, rakes my hair.
I’m in Rekjavik, at the city’s highest point
walking half-way between Hallgrimskirja Church
and Leif Eriksons’ statue when Boreas sends a gust
ripping glasses from my face. I chase them across
the square, miraculously retrieve them intact.
The is a land of extremes, powerful geysers,
roiling rivers, cascading waterfalls, high mountains,
floating icebergs, volcanoes, poised to erupt, lava
flows, one thermal Blue Lagoon, acres in size
defies frigid air, soothes sore muscles.
This is a land ruled by the North Wind Boreas, erratic,
hungry, sleeping rarely, it is terrifying, exhilarating,
raw as life itself.