Long Geographical Poems
Long Geographical Poems. Below are the most popular long Geographical by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Geographical poems by poem length and keyword.
Although you have acquired enough Might
But you do not have any moral Right
To render this humanity in a merciful Plight
As through your dreadful mental Flight
You have achieved the destructive Height
The situation now has become so Tight
That just with a provocation Slight
A ' Nuclear War' is very much in Sight
Think of the day after the ' Nuclear Night'
It would be full of Death, Sorrow and Fright
So now is the only time to Alight
From your towering plans to Fight
Think of the future, turn it Bright
Live with the nature, enjoy its Light
So keeping this reality in Foresight
To Trump and Kim, I lent an Insight
They decided to meet, with an Invite
And finally this time, without any Qualm
Each having Peace, written on his Palm
They are now meeting, this time in Vietnam
Hope they behave, quite cool and Calm
MEETING SCENARIO
For the second time, they would now Meet
With a warm handshake, expected to Greet
Both will relish, the Vietnamese Treat
Ready to achieve, a historic Feat
While each carrying his strategic Folder
Trump walking tall, looking a bit Older
He puts his hands, on Kim's Shoulder
Peace is emanating, from every Boulder
HEATED ARGUMENTS
With each other now, they would Bump
Kim then saying, while attacking Trump:
Decide whose country , is a den of Vice
You were the inventors, of this Device
And attacked Japan, intentionally Twice
Now trying to give us, so cunning Advice
When these facts, Kim may Apprise,
Trump will be taken, by great Surprise
Would claim that step, was really Wise
To halt the war, that was on the Rise
SENSIBLE DISCUSSIONS
Look..... fully loaded is our Nuclear Cart
Pressing our buttons, can make them Dart
To alter the world's, geographical Chart
If destructive invention, is a scientific Part
It's effective prevention, is a humanistic Art
So never let this, foul game Start
Retreat happily, with a clearer Heart.
World would accept us, as very Smart.
enjoy the reed
now displayed as a satisfactory deed.
* * * * * *
A Senior Moment - written months ago commemorating
the graduation from a vaunted charter school
in Bend, Oregon of thy lovely youngest,
this papa could not attend -
geographical distance constituting the primary determinant.
* * * * * *
Valedictorian treads across makeshift platform
i.e. most likely auditorium stage marked
by hushed audience inhaling, notating,
and regaling gleeful lightness of buoyant feat
(but me Yeats heavy of heart) feted for 2017 Redmond
Enrichment Academy graduates, who attained,
a milestone vis a vis earning their
high school diploma, and ready to launch
bountiful daunting challenges, yet sure
footed each young gal and/or guy
will exude joy and sorrow upon grasping their
high school diploma aware a sound education
sent each on their own future path
while pomp and circumstances issues forth
by adroit musically talented underclass
* * * * * *
man, which emotional celebrated achievement
evoked by keynote student speaker,
but also underscored via that well worn mortar
board, linkedin, kickstarter, Joyus
tune (composed by Sir Edward Elgar –
subtitled March Number 1) acknowledging
cheers, eliciting grownups immense Kleenex
moistening overpowering quintessentially
simmering ululating wrenching yowling
as tassels flipped (maybe in conjunction with
a non twittering uber bird) to the left side
of the caparisoned newly anointed future
Dharma Bums, professionals and/or trades
persons momentarily stung with sadness
to depart favorite classmates and teachers
who voluntarily cosseted, ferried, and
* * * * * *
capitalone did flickr imperceptibly, kneaded
and leavened LivingSocial, and massaged MineCraft
outlook plenti full confidence, faith, and inherent
lettered oblations serve as snap chatting,
Snow showers earlier today December 9th, 2020 yielded negligible accumulation
Though anyone who saw
and/or watched local news would be more wise
the brief flurry of crystalline precipitation
came as a complete surprise,
cuz yours truly prefers
getting strangled courtesy neckties
versus being given spoiler alert
subsequently forced to give reciprocal highfives.
I generally skirt tracking the weather,
nevertheless the missus would pantomime,
née blurts out with glee
meteorological conditions occurring here
out the skies above second Street
within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.
No rhyme nor reason prevails
necessitating yours truly to hear and/or see
what mother nature doth hold in store
concerning (Delaware, Chester,
and Montgomery) tri county locale
sometimes loosely referred to
as comprising Delaware Valley
a geographical area coterminous with
metropolitan statistical area (MSA)
and broader combined statistical area (CSA),
and composed of counties located in
Southeastern Pennsylvania, South Jersey,
Delaware, and the Eastern Shore of Maryland.
As a lifetime resident - 19473 zip code
regarding aforementioned place name,
I can ofttimes intimate
how the forecast will bode
especially if adequate hours spent outdoors,
more so when yours truly
lived at 3224 Level Road
which less likely as ole man winter
huffs and puffs with braggadocio
rarely ripping, riffing, and riding
piggyback with nor'easter.
Interestingly enough global warming
affected dramatic climate change
during course of mine lifetime,
where Currier and Ives rural
linkedin with good n plenti grange,
where agrarian lifestyle might seem strange
to urban outfitters constituting population.
Truth be told, I fondly remember those days of yore
when countless unbroken acres of greenery
whereat in Arcola a cider mill vestige
of American/British Revolutionary War
perhaps e'en centuries before frequented by troubadour
named Shakespeare, quite sad
to narrate hundreds of years postwar
(meaning that brouhaha incorporating
Declaration of Independence)
long since derelict and sold
possibly by family with surname Knorr,
(methinks his first name Ignoramus nickname Ig)
who strongly exhibited demeanor of Eeyore.
Doctors (particularly biomedical engineers)...
really trolley train hard to keep track of patients
Eye tell ya we (spuds)
pulled up stakes after four yar
and zero scores ago living in Bryn Mawr
salutary heart and lungs figurative
storied Main Line Health medical network
latter part of June tooth thousand seventeen
approximately July first
same year bidding au revoir
bid good riddance account
to slumlord - hood did spat and spar
moved to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
unsafe to ride bicycle without handlebar
economical, geographical, practical...
subjected by Grosse and Quade tyrannical czar
dom low income facilities housing
nattering nabobs of nihilism whose intellect subpar
candidates vetted by Jaclyn Geiger registrar
courtesy nepotism unexceptional manager
thanks be to her papa, she drives fancy car
unlike this pauper and the missus
limited to schlep near and not far
afforded by rattletrap motorcar,
no driving prohibitive number of miles,
crossing sketchy territory warning signs
picturing dangerous avatar,
(especially during inclement whee thar)
determining risk to forego
top manic kin Michelin
money grubbing cannibalistic
surgeon's earning equivalent silver star,
or comparable civilian rating touting specialists
while bonafide topnotch indivisible tailors swifty
stitch ink, viz tattoo back parlor shop whar
exemplary Patients Matter Always
buzzfeeding, inoculating, kickstarting...
healthy medical network,
hobnob, kibitz, schmooze...
drown lackluster lovelife at the bar
parting paramour with such sweet sorrows par
for the course during pouring rain how bizarre
necessitated our lucky find locating physicians
supreme nsync with Google high reviews
receiving, scoring, nabbing,
incorporating... truevalue re: vector and scalar,
we veteran trooper seasoned renters
luckily blessed chance
cost us pennies on the dinar
general bang for buck amazingly
found yours truly strumming his air guitar
pleasantly situated among picturesque poplar
resort within Skippack Village, a tourist
mecca for devout or
secular gourmandizing, earning
catering and acquiescing savoir
ole mighty faire Benjamin
legally tendering expensive bazaar.
Happy two thousand nineteenth birthday Autumn - September 23, 2019!
Despite twittering, uber
sputtering kickstarting
onset of cool weather
argh, another brief daily spate
re: forecasting blistering,
nauseating, sweltering...
ninety degree plus Fahrenheit
temperature forecast
(along eastern seaboard)
courtesy mister summer,
who will overstay his welcome
hoop fully a more seasonable
cooling trend rounds out ninth month
(according to Gregorian calendar)
I eagerly look forward
to crisp refreshing air
much more comfortable
to weather being outdoors
within/out this sequestered enclave
postage stamp size geographical area
offers respite versus metropolitan
denser population centers,
the former disappearing open space
rather disheartening, but urbanization -
purportedly the definition of progress
finds once open farmland
less than fifty years back
crumbling barns now tombstones
testimony when people
farmed the land, and lived
linkedin with rhythms of nature,
which only found courtesy said vestiges
inevitably razed (similar to boyhood home
324 Level Road) finds yours truly
brooding fast paced instant
credit karma gratification
twenty first century, which
small, medium forces at large
outfox the time tested imprimatur
i.e. latent powers planet Earth
unleashes (thank you global warming)
decrees final curtain call
*****sapiens runs rampant
wreaking havoc all points of compass
already inundated with scorching,
melting ice caps, flooding...
future generations, yet unborn
might avoid predicated on
dramatic alternatives fossil fuels
already showered Gaia
with carbon dioxide
as well other noxious poisons
though vibrant advocacy
evident among students
vocally demonstrating against
irrevocable damage, whereby environment
and countries situated
near sea level take heavy hit,
nonetheless... cautious optimism flickers
inducing mandatory one hundred eighty degree
reorientation regarding eco friendly
methodologies to lo mein, maintain,
sustain... technological civilization,
else quaint existence of thee
will be read about
in digitized history books.
After three glasses of memories, I was drunk in deep thought
Staggering through the pavement of my meditation I couldn't help but to think of the land I came from
Where trees bow in submission to the strength of the wind
Where the sea hardly gossip with her land mass and the soil never go thirsty
I come from a land where geographical disasters never visit
Where hatred still sing a love song
cultural heritage still echos in our traditions
Though different tongues yet we speak one language
The language of love
Though different drum sounds yet one dance step
The dance step of unity
A land baptized with peace
A native land,proud to serve
A strong motherland
Lost so many children yet pregnant for more
Scars of boomblast sleeps on her back
Corruption rapes her everynight
but her tears water the field when the sun visit her day
A land wrapped with coat of arms
Skin coloured "green white green"
A land that bring forth offsprings like you and I
Bound in happiness,laughter and countless triumph
A bowl of enthusiastic youth, with hopes and dreams
Talented people
Culture never to be washed away in the sands of time
A land I'm proud to call my own
The place I love to call my home
The soil that birthed marrow into my bone
How I miss the smell of our pride
The mother of our bride
A land impregnated by rich mineral resources
A land of trade and Entrepreneurs
Pages of divers abilities
Kings, queens, princes and princesses
Indeed it's a land of royalty
Beauty bathes the soul of her soil
Hunger stole the lives of many we know
Plane crash ended the destiny of some
Flood swallowed the wealth of others
But these losses drown in the stream of our happiness
For we come from a land where sorrow only comes
To spend the night
So i water my green field
I wave the flag high in the sky
Customise every T-shirt I buy
Compose a song for my land
Paint a nice portrait of her beauty
Go to north east south and west
Make the whole world hear my voice
I paint the walls white and the cities green
For I come from a land called Nigeria
#Benarmani
What exactly is home and where is it? And why is it vital that we know about 'Home'?
And how will I really know when I have arrived home? Some say that home is the place where one was born.
Others say that it's the place where one's story begins. Is it just a geographical place of origin or something more?
If something more or something less, what's the more or the less?
The main road and railroad tracks were there long before I arrived late summer of 1949. That huge rustic tower overlooking everything and the big seed and fertilizer building where we threw rocks against the coca cola sign are gone forever, and so is the big store in the center of town where we bought ice cream bars and sodas for a dime. Those geographical images of my place of origin are mostly still intact, and the agricultural crops of corn and beans are still being produced, but most of the people are gone.
My childhood friends and relatives, most of whom I have not seen in more than 50 years have all moved North, South, East, and West. And I guess my move west and the scattering of all the rest was best for most because I have never once heard any sounds of protest. I do suppose that the lighting bugs we often saw and the crickets we heard late at night chose to remain.
In my case, I guess when you sum it all up, I'd have to say that home is where your heart is, and I took it with me everywhere I went. I can often hear the ending of a song I heard many years ago. "And I like where I am today and this is where I'll stay". For me, the first part of that line is true, and would to God the second part was too but unfortunately, it holds no promises for me.
06172019PoSoup
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
TIDES OF TIDINESS
If I was God, the geographic world I would bless:
I’d start by tidying up my world map for it’s a mess.
First let’s examine the ideal - man-made edges can’t be beat.
Look at places like the USA -Canada boundaries - wow they’re neat.
Saskatchewan and the Four Corners - geometric perfection.
Australia’s states too, and Africa, especially the northern section.
It’s the instinct of all poetic geography teachers
To want to tidy up the world map’s ragged features.
The British Columbia coast needs sweeping with a big brush and
All those islands pushed till they’re joined to the mainland.
Same goes for the chilly south coast of Chile:
So many islands and peninsulas - it’s just silly.
And also the fjorded Atlantic coast of Norway:
Smooth? Neat? Geometric? No way!
The Canadian archipelago too might as well be joined up together
Cos it’s one frozen mass all the time in wintry weather.
Of those messy lakes of Canada and Finland we have no need:
With God’s giant blotting paper I’d make them recede.
And don’t get me started about the crazy course of a river.. . .
Pure logic and efficiency I can deliver:
The Amazon rises only 60 miles from Peru’s Pacific coast
But clearly it felt the need to have something to boast.
It should have gone west instead of 4000 miles east to the Atlantic
A wasted effort, silly choice - it ended up being absurdly gigantic.
And I have bigger complaints, such as South America
Being fitted back where it belongs into the coast of Africa;
And the Red Sea’s coasts, moved apart like edges of torn paper all raggedy:
Dunno whose idea that was, but it ain’t foolin nobody.
Obviously they should be stuck back together jigsaw fashion
To satisfy my geographical neatness passion.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
*This is the latest in my series of Nutty Geographical Poems.
Take a glance at your bedside atlas to see the places mentioned.
Nope!, this aint a
(non) commercial
Christmas plug for ye,
nonetheless, a greeting
of joie de
vivre buttressed with
(wreath) in this ole
foreign nicked saint wannabe
awash with spiritual
awakening unexpectedly
alighting boosting, and catapulting,
the mood of this
dog gone intro
spective atheistic he
then for merely "actively listening,"
sans texting to me,
(thine youngest daughter) hook
confided a circumstance,
that found her teary
eyed, whereat papa (meself)
galvanizing enervating,
and bold facing
(italicized optional),
a decades long glee
(son) doting dada, (me)
hood did earlier today
underwent spiritual reawakening
experience, where poignant see
movie ling ushered
emotional concessions prithee
lee transcending, and super see
ding ordinary ho-hum
(oh so yesterday...)
psychologically (or psychically)
escalating euphoria juiced being
a humble papa
yes sir re:
vicariously afflicted when,
Shana Aubrey (said
nineteen year old pro genie),
(who lives under
auspices of mine
kid sister in
Bend, Oregon – Voluntarily)
painfully shared her recent
(first) beaming, blooming,
and budding romance
rendered null and void
primarily duet who wah
bajillion geographical miles
from Colchester, Great
Britain, where she
(mine offspring) under
parental care of thee
guardian (angels) Shari Todd,
and George Andrew Dunning
supreme qual lit tee
aunt and uncle respective lee)
spent propitious year,
whence har mo' knee
me lass struck up,
and young lad o' a louver she
discovered without visa vis,
where, the young chap (Zak)
broke off (figuratively smote) long
distance elle la gee.
Gnome hatter at my helpless state
hive hilt that being privy at any rate
which parental aye deed eek quate
with darling daughter as a mature primate.