Long Giant Poems
Long Giant Poems. Below are the most popular long Giant by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Giant poems by poem length and keyword.
Oblivion, how quickly it catches up with us
Like the shadow of a giant bird
that doesn't even notice us
in its slow flight at low altitude.
Tide of the past arose suddenly
The next second life changes forever
Moving silently towards the light
Favorite things fade into oblivion
The beloved's face blurs, her warm lips become cool
And the salty wind carries away
our desperate attempts to make this world a little better.
A butterfly flutters on the window pane
In its blind will to freedom
And then creeps up to the end of that will
Everything becomes the same
The differences don't matter anymore.
Hidden, perched on high,
The Peregrine Falcon echolocates the
bird-in-flight warning song.
Only when intercept is optimal, takes flight.
Soaring over 100mph, wings and claws
cantilever for precise capture.
There is no app I follow, only the rhythms
of nature my Father passed down to me-
"listen to the wind"
"harvest the gifts of the seasons"
Wild Tansyleaf Aster carpets this river bottom
forest. Stepping around deep imprints left by
a heavy Buck, the symphony of migrating
Warblers sweeps through my wooded wind.
Brambles I avoid, Deer Ticks I hope to discover!
and mud sink-holes I traverse; as I approach
the unmistakeable glint of the Giant Golden Morel!
04/18/15
© All Rights Reserved
I’m mad as a hornet sting like a bee
My venom can kill you quite instantly
I’m an Asian specie’s a giant size
Protecting my nest and queen in her hive
She usually builds in dark hollow tree’s
Makes cells into combs from bark and debris
Then she lays larva in each of these cells
Young spin silk to form cap over the well
Then the transformation starts taking place
Into adult hood hornets in this case
They hatch from their combs and ready to learn
Stealing the nectar they take it in turns
Majesty the queen they honour and serve
Hornets are bandits don’t ever disturb
© Copyright K.C.Leake
13th November 2015
All Rights Reserved
For The Contest
Rapid ideas sprinkle out of my dendrite village,
Flowing down my shoulders, landing on the best of days,
In kilter skelter felter welter milter belter jagged piles
in crazy, zany, silly, dark, ugly, horrible, unnatural, weird ways.
I watch them form little armies. Some skitter off into the kitchen walls.
Others slither back up my legs, trying to reinvent themselves.
None want my help, so I walk into the living room.
Some are laughing hysterically, thinking it is a game.
A couple of them hit me hard in the middle of my lower back.
They are giant jumpers, trying to get back into my skull.
Good luck I think, knowing my imaginary dendrite village well.
If there is one thing she does not allow,
it is access to repeat offenders.
Best to lie down on a page and let me
Draw a cartoon around you or put you into a poem.
Some say he's a prophet
others swear he's the son of God
Some say he was just a man on a good mission
still others say he never existed at all.
I think he was the original hippie
a supreme giver -who taught takers
how to give without motive
how to love without condition
to ask for forgiveness after sin.
Jesus would have stowed away on slave ships
salving hope and snapping chains.
He'd have blocked the ovens of Auschwitz
volunteered at no-kill animal shelters
and food pantries.
He would've made manna out of bullet casings...
arrested again, again and again
bashed upside the head and bleeding.
Weaving a giant peace sign and rosary
draping them over the Pentagon, Kremlin
and the Forbidden City-
He may have shared a wineskin, a bowl of Mexican gold
then lie down under tie-dyed sky and dream in colors bold.
Or he would have been the only sober one
getting everyone safely back to home.
It is that time of year again
wooden clog upon the cobblestone
the red telly in view beer maids
slide the giant steins across
long tables inside the crowded tent
huge pretzel and brats hang sparingly
over the doorway entrance while misty
fog pour in chasing hedge hogs
throughout the forest a rather full
Marketplatz beckons my attention span
I notice the Bavarian alps in view
while riding the mechanical bull
I'm quite taken by the lanky block
in the far corner adjusting stocking
dashing to buy a few more hummels
wooden nut crackers and incense burners
taxi!!!
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Let’s make a meal out of this mountain I said to Clouth.
With a giant goat gulp I had a boulder in my mouth.
Which I thought would be fun until things went south
And my teeth began to crack and break and fall out.
Clouth thought it was a competition, so he chomped on a tree.
Spitting out teeth and splinters and yelling “whoopee!”
That is what I get when I travel down the blue sea
With a crazy, crabby, cranky, mealy-mouth chimpanzee.
The children we were with began racing around
Tasting all the stuff they could reach on the ground.
The meal was earthworms, mushrooms, anything found.
The mountain rolled his eyes, and said “Stop kidding around!”
As meals go, this one was surprisingly fast.
Of course dandelions, and daffodils never do last
When you are a mountain goat with the largest mouth
After we were finished, we moved our meal to the south.
Once was wretched
Was charged with stealing a pie
And the penalty under the law says that Richard must die
But the maid who made the allegation had told a lie
She couldn’t recognize the thief when he ran by
Richard Prichard was taken to Cornwall
Before the magistrate at Canterbury Street
The magistrate told Richard to stand up
And to be on his feet
He called Richard a thief and wretch in open court
He commanded the jailer to take him back to prison
On the spot
The magistrate took a bribe
And let Anthony go
After he had sold a bag of sand for salt
But pretended he didn’t know
$50,000 he took
Set a guilty man free without looking at his book
Richard Prichard was taken to a cell that night
And he started to pray
To our Lord God and Saviour
In the morning and in the night
And indeed every single day
Miraculously there was a storm one night
That destroyed the electric cables
And set the prison alight
Richard Prichard escaped unhurt
And he was no where in sight
And ran away from the city
Before he was caught
Under the haystack
He lay
And began to pray
Before the children could come outside to play
And away to Coventry
Behold a place
Where the Lord showed him
His amazing grace
He settled as a farmer
And become to work
The more work he did
The less he talked
One day a gentleman
Asked him if he wanted to buy a land
Because he worked so hard
And this showed on the palm of his hand
2 dollars he gave for it
And the remaining three dollars which he gave
Bit by bit
Unknown to this man
He had bought a golden land
Where gold and diamonds rocked his feet
Like giant balls of sand
re-post inspired by Brenda's contest
THE HERO
Every Tuesday on the dot,I would be off to the newsagent like a shot.A solitary
sixpence,all my wealth to pick up my favourite comic from his shelf.Not the
Beano,Beezer,Dandy or Eagle...the Hotspur and Wizard were my kings regal.To
read of my hero W W Wilson,the wonder man,sporting giant extraordinaire,batted
bowled and ran.
Soccer ,cricket were a piece of cake,he left all others in his wake.Give him the
ball and the game was soon over,he even outscored Roy of the Rover.Bowling
right armover,on a sixpence seven times from eight,well above average Wilson
was incredibly great.He'd bowl all day at one twenty an hour,never stopping to
take shower!
In futuristic black body suit,an English record breaker without dispute.My
inspiration,this imagined prince,never bettered then,before or since!
i have no
mark from
where to
start to
start telling
you how i
do but there's
no telling to a
blackboard
that's been
erased more
then two or
three lessons
before so that
we might salvage
something partially
historically
it seems that
washington put
the first step on
the moon in the
deleware to
take a giant
leap on the
prussians
deciphering
different
erased
layers
cross referencing
what seems one
time in chalk talk
about how all
this comes
together and
whether it's
me and or you
ich bin
a dream
who can only find
try again. fail again. and
so i say
stuttering
i think i mean
i truly do love you
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