Long Geysers Poems
Long Geysers Poems. Below are the most popular long Geysers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Geysers poems by poem length and keyword.
Tropical Love
Colorful petals, huge tender soft leaves,
Intricate patterns, the type spiders weave.
Gentle breezes, smelling the ocean salt,
Embedded crystals where the surf may halt.
Bright colored finches flocking through the air,
Loud racket is heard from a hidden lair.
Rainforest splendor, how precious it sings,
Tropical colors on butterfly wings!
Georges blossoms in an Edenic bay,
Colorful orchids take my breath away.
Gigantic geysers spraying in the air,
Lava is flowing, too hot to be near.
My passionate love, as we stop to rest,
Relaxing in comfort against my chest.
© Bjørn O. Wastvedt, 2017
Like the first dawning
dew drops
Like the fresh scents
of morning
Like cut grasses in
spring time
Like a flower
in new bloom
Your beauty enfolds me
Engulfs and abounds me
Completely unveils me
Makes my heart cry for more
Like the depths of your
valleys
Like the gushing of
geysers (hot springs)
Like the turn of the
ocean
Trickling streams
down the mountains
Like the mists upon
Snowdon
Gently rise
Gently fall
Guess not often
I tell you
Just how much
you mean to me
That my life
would be worthless
Without you to adore
Yes, I'm saying
I love you
And I hope you
are listening
For it seems like
a lifetime
To speak out
surface and soar
Like the eagle
flies on wing
Like the clouds
in the Heavens
Like trees
rustle above
My life trembles
with passion
Let me show
my adoration
My courtship and
fondness
My sweetest amore
(after Théophile Gautier)
Carmen is sleek and slender, with a trace
of gypsy swarthiness around her eyes.
That sinister black hair engulfs her face.
There's something hellish in those slick brown thighs.
When women look at her, they call her plain,
but men surrender reason. Elle divirilise.
The Bishop of Toledo, now, is saying
a Mass for Carmen on stiff, painful knees.
About her amber neck a heavy twine
of thick, black hair coils downward, and it serves,
when she is in her alcove, nude, reclined,
as her voluptuous scarf, enhancing curves.
From that unblemished marble face explodes
the crimson-painted grin of a heartless winner.
behind one ear, her fleshy scarlet rose
has sucked the sap from souls of hopeless sinners.
With that bewitching shape, the morenita
outstrips with ease the pale society beauties.
Internal cruel geysers easily heat her
dark eyes, which force the fallen back to duty.
She has, within that vulgar, cheap allure
some acrid grains, some venomous sharp flecks
from Aphrodite's sea, from which The Whore
once squirmed, to castrate us all with sex.
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.
Yes, I smell sulfur
Brimstone seepage smothers me
Earth’s crust pizza thin
Mud pools like cauldrons bubble
Dante’s infernal region.
Underworld torment
Geysers vent their hot rage
I am thunderstruck
Extreme caution is needed
The inferno is waiting.
A trip many years ago to Rotorua reminded me of Dante's Inferno. The smell of sulfur (Brimstone) and bubbling mud pools all made me think of the Divine Comedy. I wrote this poem while the experience was fresh in my mind but it has been tweaked again to fit syllable count. These days I try to be accurate regarding haiku and tanka.
Most of the time hidden from sight
surrounded by densely thick mist
the island had evolved differently
it was a place of tranquillity
No human foot had ever stepped on it
coral white sands gleaned and sparkled
palm trees waved their stately branches
multi coloured parrots swung amidst the fronds
Their harsh but cheerful cries filled the air
below roamed mystical unicorns and even a phoenix
happily cavorting on emerald green plains
while busy monkeys chittered in the dense forests
Geysers shot scalding waters in high plumes
keeping the island at tropical heat
a natural barrier reef surrounding it
strange as soon as you crossed the reef
All signs of the fog disappeared
leaving the island in plain view
here there had never been a shot fired
the wild inhabitants knew no fear of man
Ever changing latitude and longitude
the island drifted from place to place
a paradise totally unspoilt by time or man
mariners whispered of its existence
Yet on no maps did it ever appear
wrapped safe in its shrouding mists
every century it would briefly appear
never emerging in the same place twice
As it floated the ocean currents
sometimes to the far bitterly cold north
then it would be briefly spotted in the east
the island kept its secrets safe from mankind
written 02/23/2014
contest Islands sponsor Anthony Slausen
Green-eyed monster
Rears it's ugly head.
Those eyes
Seething
With contempt,
Trained
On his competition.
You-belong-to-only-me possessiveness
Betrays a stolid disposition.
His lover
And his pride
On the line.
The rope of emotional restraint,
Gradually slipping from grasp.
Pangs of intense anger,
Arrested;
A molten lava
Close to
Violently erupting.
Paranoia
Geysers upward.
Tentacles of insecurity
Steadfastly hooked onto him.
His jealous thoughts
Racing
In nanoseconds.
Date written and posted: 02/12/2019
Androids sleep on waterbeds of blue
Robots join them in hotel rooms
In this endeavor everyone is happy
Between the sheets prayers are heard
Imploring their makers to keep them safe
To make them soft, less heavier than they are
Prayers for lesser sharper parts to cut or puncture
Are solicited for mechanical guests protection
It is far too late to sleep or wake this afternoon
For then the geysers come to flood the day
Puncture noises, gushes of water spring forth
Rains of insanity that logic cannot explain away
The mood and linens soiled for the automatons
Flashing lights in red, whirring sounds of pain
Screams of danger ringing out in all directions
Would not craters on the moon be better
Make for a dryer accommodations selection
For androids and robots need their rest
Leaving humans behind to clean up all the mess
The waves dash themselves
Against the rocks,
Sending geysers of spray
High over the seawall,
Half drowning the cars
That are creeping slowly
Through the sandy lakes
Forming on the road.
The wind screams
And pounds its fists in a
Tantrum on car windows.
The angry sea hisses
And spits a frothy foam
Onto the curling mountains of
Emerald and blue-black water.
A lone cormorant dips and bobs,
Appears and disappears
In the unaccustomed,
Roiling surface of the salt
Pond across the road.
Beyond, the trees whip and
Thrash their arms,
Moaning and keening
In the driving sheets of rain.
Pieces of their shattered limbs
Litter the roadway, and
A single strand of wire
Flips back and forth,
Sparking red in the gloom.
People park their cars
Away from falling limbs
And dash for leaf-strewn
Porches, chairs all spun awry.
They shed their dripping coats
And watch the raging storm
Wreak havoc, safely, from inside!
Do serial killers do head counts
Why are spaceships aerodynamic
Why is loud in cloud
See at the back of a hospital is that the backwards
Surely a plaster is more use than time on wounds
Every sad comes with an ad
How many sides does the sea have
What do rocket scientists say when something is easy
Does that mean that 2 birds in the hands is worth 4 in the bush
Can you get half a hole
Shouldn’t geysers be waterrisings
Is a Tom really small
The pencil is mightier than the sword
cause that nobody is John ing Wick
How could you light a candle at both ends
Well I suppose if it was balanced on a glass
Every cat I have had must have been on their last life
Wish there was a room full of mush
Time is loads of ships
Fleeting
What do you get for 2 kings and a queen in chess
God save save the….. what is it this week
2 soon
In the words of Queen
Matter really nothing me to
See if you have a..never mind