Long Georgia Poems
Long Georgia Poems. Below are the most popular long Georgia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Georgia poems by poem length and keyword.
Mr. Jerry Reed Hubbard was a native of Atlanta.
That is the biggest city in the Peach State of Georgia.
The people there were proud of their native son.
A few of his songs made Country Billboard’s number one.
A gold record and Grammy Award is what he got
for the best-selling single “When You’re Hot, You’re Hot”.
Many of his songs were funny, and I certainly laughed
when I heard his “She Got the Goldmine, I Got the Shaft”.
We also saw him with Burt Reynolds in the movies
where he warned the Bandit about those pursuing smokeys.
Jerry undoubtedly had a career that was great
until he sadly passed away in 2008.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
cigarette falling, snow-
ing in-
side the bronco,
buck-
ing ash two-digit scissors
reach-
ing like tongs
passenger’s eyes pop
driver
retrieves, revels, masters
the smoke; a joke
to the occupant
occupational hazard:
timing of
timber
window ajar; a trail
of chimney smoke
a cautionary tale:
don’t make my insides jiggle
jingle bells are merrily ringing
can’t help myself
previously, at the airport
man flies
off his luggage seat
goes splat in the turkey line
his phone’s fly-
ing
and i wonder why
i’m the only one
giggling
i leave the state in newfallen snow,
splash-
down on the tarmac
in Georgia
Nov 2022
I think that I will learn another language just because of the sound of the words
That would be the only purpose just for the wonderful sound of that language
I think that I will learn the species of every bird not just those in Georgia
I think that I will have my hours of meditation each__ every day
Meditation to relax mind__ to be filled with a new story let the river flow
By digging hard maybe I could deflect the river onto another path
A path of learning and of growing into very different stronger person
Then that river that runs rapid after a rain overflowing its banks__ideas
Imaginary things and __problems or maybe I could channel it to work
To operate a grits mill _ power electric plant serving community
Maybe it will be diverted over stones, pebbles__even boulders hard places
Those places that it really wants to refuse to enter
This river will run until its course reaches an unpassable place__locked in
And not a chance to change__then and only then I will just have to blast to free
Ideas__dynamite thoughts__non-conventional__like what happens if a huge
Iceburg turns loose and floats toward the US
the thought of you is consuming me
even as I consume content
on how to communicate with you.
I won’t turn on the camera—
the perception of being perceived
is too much.
I’m avoiding you like I do everything:
dressed like a street urchin
for plausible deniability,
streaming lofi beats I had to Google.
and if you’re going to know me,
I should admit I started before I started—
a false beginning, a pipe-clearing ritual
that even feels cliché.
this is why I hate freewriting:
once it’s down, it’s down.
you have to deal.
like the lasagna and gnocchi
and Ben & Jerry’s,
once swallowed,
it demands revisiting.
you dig for the origin,
even if you never wrote it in ink.
eventually I have to decide:
deletion or graduation?
if I can’t bleed in Comic Sans,
it doesn’t deserve Garamond,
Georgia, or god forbid—
Times New Roman.
never a Word doc
until it’s ready for submission.
god, I miss print entries—
I knew the weight of paper,
how impressions mattered
in the hand.
linen to cotton ratios—
a knowledge I later translated
to bedsheets,
never knowing till then
that you could see sunbeams through
the ones I’d grown up on.
WELL NOW I'M IN CAPS LOCK
so much for writing
with my eyes closed—
this is how I go sideways
looking for a shortcut and end up
taking the hardest road
to tell the story.
maybe that’s not it—
but it’s what I’ve made of it.
I can’t say I hate it anymore.
I understand now:
even this can be a tool.
Winds
raged as
fires glowed in
small frowzy shacks
that strange Georgia eve an angel was born.
The sky proclaimed that lives would re-arrange;
with Joy’s first cry,
the tempest
changed to
calm.
Warm
Zephyr -
spring magic -
arrived with Joy.
Her laughter was kindling for hearth and home.
No galas in her future ; she was poor.
Never frowning,
Joy would flash
diamond
smiles.
Her
Mama
sewed flounces
on hand-me-downs,
which Joy wore with glee, celebrating life.
As Papa played his guitar for them all,
Joy danced and twirled.
Humdrum fled
in her
stead.
Fair,
yellow-
haired; slender
like sassafras,
this sunny lass gladdened all of the town.
Humankind exists that we might have joy.
Those touched by that
sweet angel
all learned
this.
Joy
expelled
gloom, giving
her cheer to all.
Nevertheless, joy is often short-lived.
One strange spring day, a cold wind blew in. As
thunder quaked, warmth
waned, and Joy
was no
more.
For Chris D. Aechtner's
"Double the Fun ~ (Tetractys)"
Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene
would love to rip out your spleen
if Trump’s not the center of your world.
Her radical convictions she has loudly unfurled.
That she’s antisemitic is true
and, it seems, white supremacist too.
She has praises for Putin.
For some murders, she’s rootin’.
Certain Democrats make up this queue.
She speaks of family values and her Christianity,
then spews out venom. That hate is wrong, she cannot see.
Here’s one conspiracy theory that thrives in Greene’s head:
JFK Jr’s death was a Hillary “Clinton murder”~~that’s what she said!
"Thy Beautiful Heart : The Blue Faery’s Baby"
'Tis brave the heart
of a lionhearted cub
When Butterflies
aren’t pretty
Aren’t all what they seem
Monsters that do steal teeth
from the Blue Faery's Baby
A glass jar full of
plundered
precious Pearls
of White Ivory,
not sweet honey bees
The cub
must remember
the power asleep
in thy magic, the
strength of pure
LOVE
Stand firm clasping it to
thy beautiful heart,
thy beautiful heart -
that was borne
from pure love
all of thy
beautiful dreams
to believe
to dream
red life rosy and real
“Walk with courage”,
she heard her say,
"Soft footsteps always follow,
They’ve never walked away,"
"In thy dreams
I guard thee still,
from wolves
and monks
all monsters -
men and women
gone astray"
In that strange
contained place
that place of the Fey,
both are walking
side by side
together
in pure Light,
a strong power,
in conversation
they hold,
deep of the mind,
the two from the Fey
"All will come good
on the morrow
For the
Blue Faery’s Baby,
there is to be
no more bleeding
Black Sorrow
Love, hear me now,
Time is tumbling
Love - pure and strong,
with all of thy
beautiful heart
Time,
tis no more time,
to be borrowed.
Love's kiss
from a mother's
pure heart
breaks forever and now
the Papillon Spell".
(Lovejoy-Burton, August 2018)
for my daughter,
Georgia -
Close your eyes
when you listen to the music...
it adds more power to the spell.
I am always with you. Always.
ALL my Love - Always.
The Blue Faery.
"Conjunto", Symphony for 8 Cellos
PeterRudolfi, Youtube
https://youtu.be/cKEq56mDLg4
I am with you all the way.
Love, Mum.
STUCK ON BE LIE FS
Gives me the Creeps
People Laugh and get "tickled pink" when I respond to them by saying "I have forgotten more than you ever knew". Well, it’s usually true, I get tickled too, because they forgotten that I told them that already; Especially when some neophyte has meanwhile discovered that the world is neither flat or round:
Some of my adopted kids, my kids, or grandkids, Esp., the "new philosophers"... lol, if they only knew, "Stop trying to one up your- Mama/Grandma!" Remember/ "Two ears, one mouth"- Listen more- talk less.
Everything you know, think you know, or will ever know, is subject to change.!
I have survived- Thrived by using the spirit of discernment - Chicago-New York-Cleveland-South Beach Myrtle Beach-Georgia-Jam Down-Philly- California- I see you, through you, and know you.
Millions of you clones give out the same clues, not useful - but want someone to use! I deal with the wicked differently -and I gravitate toward the genuine, and the pure of heart easily. If I wasted my energy proving to all the backbiters, and deceivers, that " I know who you are and I saw what did." I would be spent"...
Then you would dislike me for calling you out; I only call out people that I trust, calling them out would make us closer, right? But I won't because a person with no shame is never worth shaming see where I am aiming ?
Just let them wonder and ask themselves " I wonder if she caught that, I wonder if she knows". Mostly, I need my mind to be free...I write stuff and I am done!! " Whom the prose/poems fits..."let them wear it".!
An ocean's depth lies between The Georgia Guidestones
and England's Salisbury Plains, where Stonehenge stands.
Though they appear on different continents, they share
mysterious secrets that have never quite been explained.
Were they erected as a cryptic message for all of mankind,
or esoteric giants raised on earth, new or eons of years ago?
Commissioned by modern man or the hierarchy of occult?
Vertical, they stand, monoliths in fields of space and time,
Silent are the henges, forged in history, draped in moss
circular in shape, one age old set encircling the other.
Praised as an archaeological wonder, aligning with the sun,
a healing place or time's gateway used by priest and Druids?
The Georgian stones appear to me as a set of double doors,
Inscribed on their surfaces are lines of grave warning and laws.
heralding "truth, beauty and love, passion faith and tradition."
One distinct language, and a guide limiting world population.
Perhaps Stonehenge is just a monument to the dead, but that's
not the simple minded perception that rolls around in my head.
I believe there's something more significant to the ancient stones
that we can only conceive if the Druids want it made known.
November 27, 2021
Georgehenge Stone Cold Minds Reflect Contest
Sponsored by Joe Maverick
If you are daring, strong of will and character, not adverse to hardship
or to long treks into the wild then the 40 day virtual walk
along the Appalachian way is the adventure for you!
Explore hill country all the way from Georgia to Main without ever leaving your Lazy Zee Boy. Each day, trudge, walk scrabble and climb, making camp in the open or in the rugged huts sometimes provided for long distant walkers. You must go forward in all weathers so bring suitable clothing.
No soft bed for you. A sleeping bag on the Livingroom floor is essential.
Grow a beard. Provide a bucket and some dry leaves for when nature calls, leave them behind the sofa. Turn off the air con.
After 20 days you will stink and so will your home, and you may suffer from sores on you buttocks, bring creams. inform the neighbors of your absence, take a cell phone take hundreds of pics of you staring into the distance.
In your backpack all the food you could carry is going stale,
eat it anyway and ration the meat jerky. Stay hydrated
drink from a large barrel you keep nearby.
You cannot switch the walk off until completed. At night keep the
headphones on so you can listen the sounds of the wild woods
as you toss and turn.
At the crack of dawn carry steadfastly on.
You have almost made it, now you are virtually stumbling
down from the last ridge but then disaster strikes your youngest
enters the room to switch on a cartoon!
Your official certificate will now always read 'failed'
and not long after your heroic walk your wife will leave you
departing angrily with her own virtual boyfriend.