Long Glean Poems
Long Glean Poems. Below are the most popular long Glean by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glean poems by poem length and keyword.
The truth is there but hidden from the concretes.
The metaphors resounding in the path of elephants
Drowned out by thinkers who do not connect the swirls
With the dendrites they could have grown had they chosen too.
The wit is there for the abstracts to glean and relish
For the writers and thinkers to enjoy lavishly as they read.
The humor is popping off the page for those who see.
The dreamers, the lovers, the seers, they laugh with relish.
The imagery is there in thousand dollar words,
In words we know not every day, and use only in poems.
The feelings are there, and are often felt by even the concretes.
The soul knows what the closed minds cannot.
Like cinders rolled down the mountain spire
And all in our wake set afire
So hot were we like arson fire
So young were we to so aspire
To wield the world with a hearty grip
To twirl our girls with hand on hip
And dance till the night gave us its last
And the dawn awoke like the dead full aghast
Oh, those days we were of sparking thrill
Of the nectar of life we could not drink our fill
Nor sit idly by while the day strummed its song
With subconscious mind, we pranced and sung along
Midst our summer eves we sat neath the trees
Our lady’s head upon our shoulder our hearts asmoulder
And glimmers of a light, from deep soulful sight
We lay our love to rest in red velvet and starlight
For when we wake those hands we'd take
And proffer vain oaths purpose bound to break
For in our youth we knew not truth
Just the thrill of sweet pursuit! Forsooth!
Our nights aplenty with common fruit
And grapes hung low to tease the lusty brute
Oh, such were the days of frolic and frays
We look back on our hosts with silent praise
And thankful old souls that sought lasting goals
True, true love, bridled we gallant foals
And tamed that power in years seeming hours
Picket fences, brick and mortar, lawn and bowers
And oh, the children that seem run for hours
Seeming born with an energy that rival ours
No ball and chain neither, but a winsome maid
Cast down like angels lightly to the glade
Have managed to glean us happy lives
And quench our flames, our happy wives
Happy husbands we’d never knew
From flames of far off yesterday’s view
Trustworthy cane, beside me rests so near,
A steadfast friend, in every weather clear.
Through rain or shine, it lights my way,
A loyal guide, night and day.
In corners sometimes it may reside,
Forgotten when life's tides collide.
Yet, with a stare, its help it extends,
A true reminder of a faithful friend.
From birth's first breath, we learned to crawl,
Exploring places, both big and small.
Now in old age, a different grace we glean,
Walking with a cane, hope's newfound scene.
In your polished wood or metallic frame, a history resides,
A witness to moments where life collides.
Lean on you I may, but stand tall I do,
For you are the friend that helps me push through.
Embracing change, we stride hand in hand,
Traversing the landscapes of shifting sand.
Oh, walking cane, you're more than a prop,
You're a symbol of strength, never to stop.
The breeze that blows across the green,
The rustling leaves, the babbling stream,
Nature's gifts, a wondrous scene.
But now the world has turned unclean,
The air, the earth, the water, it seems,
The breeze that blows across the green.
The plastic waste and toxins we glean,
Our heedless actions, a reckless scheme,
Nature's gifts, a wondrous scene.
We must not take her gifts as routine,
For she is fragile, and we are extreme,
The breeze that blows across the green.
Let us wake up, and act on this dream,
For if we don't, it will be extreme,
Nature's gifts, a wondrous scene.
Let us cherish her, as she's always been,
And vow to keep her safe and serene,
The breeze that blows across the green,
Nature's gifts, a wondrous scene.
Sprawling eagles' wings of freedom glean upon this God blessed land.
Huckleberries abound upon rich forest tapestry.
Salmon spawn in glistening waters aplenty.
Indigo mountains are crowned with crisp doilies.
Laughing waves clap upon coastal pebbles and sands,
with dunes designating an anticipated vacation.
Flatlands form the heartland foundation.
Demographically diverse are we.
Prideful skyscrapers collide with weather of every sort.
Churches, temples, cathedrals, and synagogues safely abide in city scenes.
A smorgasbord of aromatic awe permeates food cart streets, as authentic and varied as American souls.
With skin, hair, and eyes preciously unique, we share similar pleasures.
Churros, gyros, spatzle, spring rolls, kielbasa, pizza, and tikka masala kababs burst with awaited flavor.
Aquatic centers, theaters, stadiums, museums, amusement parks, festivals, and malls sprawl
with leisure excitement.
Families thrive as children are taught to read and write and parents sacrificially provide food, clothing, and a sanitary shelter.
We are free to own land, raise animals, and harvest from our garden.
Founded on Christian principles and faith, we work hard to earn our signature grandeur and pray hard to keep it.
1-3-2020
Last night's storm
has left its artwork on the beach,
a postmodernist exhibition
of brown seaweed strewn in clumps
like hair on a barbershop floor,
broken seashells
and a fallen rainbow of plastics
strung out along the shore
where now an exhausted sea
licks the leftovers of a meal.
Chaos has been distilled down
to washed up artifacts
and red bottle caps, drinking straws
and spoons buried deep inside a ball
of yellow twine. I cannot make
much sense of what is on display
or glean from this haphazard art
a hint of meaning
other than in its making.
All seems uncoupled, specimens
torn from lonely souls, bits
and pieces coughed up
out of the exhaust of a huge machine
whose pistons pump and drive
a spinning wheel that has no purpose.
I pick up a plastic sandal
and wonder whose foot
it once belonged to, then put it back
and walk home
alone.
I'm truly sorry for those who died.
From that cheeky little FauchXi virus.
And those demonized for deflecting
the virgin big pharma prick.
I'm embarrassed to say that I thrived.
During the height of the lockdown madness.
Didn't mind wearing a diaper on my face.
I've always been a plain Jane.
It's all about the eyes anyways...or so they say-
I enjoyed the unclogged commutes.
The rock star parking.
Thinner lines at the five and dime...
Six feet of personal space at all times...
The downside was I caught the FaucXi virus... twice.
The first time was a breeze-
I got a little cocky and careless.
The second time was much more vicious.
Lost my sense of smell and taste.
I'm quickly out of breath.
As my lungs were laid to waste!
Now, the texture and color of food are paramount.
Maskless faces appear plastic now...
Some people still mask their scars.
Fear along with jealousy and greed
are the hardest things to glean...from really living.
His gold teeth glistened in the sun
As ‘Long Ben Avery’ turned
To face his captives, head lowered,
Their providence to learn
For Avery was a pirate bold
Trained in the Kings’ Navy
Who, disillusioned with his lot,
Captained a mutiny
He seized ‘The Fancy’, in Cadiz
An act both rare, and bold
Then set out on the briny sea
In search of ships with gold
He plundered every vessel met
With not one man set free
And soon, his name spread fear and dread
Across the seven seas
For two years, not a ship was safe
As treasure he amassed,
But his biggest booty taken
Would prove to be his last
He sailed down to the Mandab Strait
And other ships did meet
Who chose him as their Admiral,
To raid the India Fleet
The ‘Mogul’s’ flagships, tried to flee
Chased by the pirate fleet
But a brutal, two hour battle,
Ended with their defeat
The pirates tortured those they caught
Without a thought, or care
As they searched on board for treasure
For each, to glean their share
The ‘Mogul’, proffered swift revenge
Hunting the pirates down,
Swearing each villain, had to hang
For crimes against his crown
The pirates scattered, far and wide
To skirt captivity
But most were caught, and hung with rope
Strung from the nearest tree
But Avery, was never found
Or his share of the hoard
It’s rumoured that his crew killed him,
And threw him overboard
No matter what became of him
Or what, was ‘Long Ben’s’ fate
No man’s ever bettered his feat
In history, to date.
* Depicting a young child or baby with sight impairment
given clear vision
Lens enhanced perception
Sands your face with precision
Rallying rows of eyelash perfection
Brush my conscience, bless my vision
Thrown avalanche realisation
My astonishment reflects rapture
Silent diction becomes spacious
Adoration boomerang captured
Freshly arrived from dim duller places
I glean impact of quiet transferrence
Transfixed by sculpted undulations
Facial telling message emergence
Struck by contrast's dimensions
Your eyes emit layers translated
Squeals of delight bolster senses
Sight huddles sound collaborated
Bearing immense advantage
Wearing miraculous glasses
Definition's parade outlandish
Ripples accompany laughter
% = % = % = % = % = % = % = % = %
Nature walks around the street smiling at the people it meets with hope swinging on the vine and a blissful song that is mine. Plants of hope are springing up everywhere, with root cemented into the ground and branches swaying all around.
It is not quiet summer yet but I am soaking in sweat, the sweltering heat is baking underneath my feet and ambition is sitting on the chair with lots of stories to share.
It is one of those mornings when things start off slow and emotion is locked into the ground and the reluctant energy keeps dragging me around, the days get longer, the nights get shorter and my spirit gets bolder.
Appointments keep changing , new schedules are made and I keep waiting for you to come. I was hoping for the day when everything would go as plan but the shadows of the night steals it away but nature stood its ground.
Look at the green plants in the field and the trees soaked up to their knees; the birds are flying to and fro they have no real home to go but sit on the branch and watch the water grow.
The message is clear that spring is still in the air and persistence is still lingering around. Nature will open a shop in another town and summer will salute you with crown; so get ready to move around. It isn’t the edges that I fear, it is the open border and the social disorder. You have got to connect to my heart beat.
Nature is riding on high and it is bidding the galaxy goodbye; it sees in places I cannot see and it anchors in the depth of the sea; and when the night is warm it sails above the sky and part the clouds. Flashes of light descend on the earth filling the air with a sudden glean but nature sits undisturbed.
Nature is running a marathon, testing, arranging and organizing, the mission is on the way and the crew is doing the final touch before they board the bus; the launch is set and everyone is on the deck.
The instructions are clear and by midnight nature should take you in the air, the missiles are blazing on the other side while nature stands still and watches the heavens move.