Long Globular Poems

Long Globular Poems. Below are the most popular long Globular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Globular poems by poem length and keyword.


Rain Dance

Rain Dance
The rooftops appear slick
   reflective mirrors of the rain
   droplets large and globular
   flow down the rafters to the ground.
Splashes of water tap
   brushing leaves and branches
   releasing dry leftovers that still cling
   long passed the chill slaps of winter.
Glistening in pale yellowed light
   the trees canopy the scene
   waving in soft gentle breezes
   that waltz on the air.
There is a drumming in the wind,
   a subtle rhapsody of sounds
   setting a patterned flow
   to some hidden syncopated beat.
Stiff and silent wallflowers
   stand staunch, stationary and mute
   like stranded stickles and bladed greens
   unmoved by the melodies.
More wily and free
   others dance unrestrained,
  frail loose stemmed beauties
  drenched in rhythm to rise and flow in the rain.
Wind spinners spin unrelenting, rotating fast and slow
   wet with saturating drops
   loitering on the leaves and wind
   anxious to be part of May’s rain dance
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.


Rain Dance In October

The rooftops are damp and slick
   reflective mirrors of the rain
   droplets large, globular, heavy and thick
   flow down the rafters to the ground terrain.
Splashes of water tap and cling
   brushing leaves and branches in  back and front 
   released dry leftovers that slap of summer and spring
   long passed the chill shivering stunts .
Glistening in pale yellowed light
   the trees canopy the scene
   waving in soft gentle breezes bright
   that waltz on the air in search of holiday dreams.
There is a drumming in the wind,
   a subtle rhapsody of sound in retreat
   setting a patterned flow to a once quiet din
   in some hidden syncopated beat.
Stiff and silent the flowers unseen
   stand staunch, stationary and mute
   like stranded stickles and bladed greens
   unearthed by the autumn melody refute.
More wily and free from duties
   others dance bold and unrestrained,
   frail loose stemmed misplaced beauties
   drenched in rhythm to rise and flow in the hardened rain.
Wind spinners unrelenting rotate fast and slow
   wet with saturating drops held in a trance,
   loitering on the leaves and wind awaiting snow
   anxious to be part of a change and a seasonal rain dance
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member A Water Lily In My Pond

Amid globular, floating serrated leaves
Dwells a dreamy lily in milk white frock
She is the new occupant of my small pond
Fructified by swimming fish and croaking frog


Like a nymph over the water’s still surface
She smiles and sways in unusual grace, 
With the regal flourish of a beaming bride!
A sight, that’ll lit a smile on many a face!


In the circular pond dappled with green algae
As the early beams of sunlight come to cajole
She stands proud, lifting her fair face to the sun 
Awakening ripples of joy in my sullen soul! 

Placed First 
Strand (1066) Poetry Contest
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Nothing's As It Seems

You think you enjoy the radical,
flaming in the gas jets of astral fumes, 
spinning in the ocular midnight of a rabid dogs dream,
yet, I think you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

An all too thorough pondering
of mundane thought comes to naught
as vulgar words don’t necessarily wax poetic.

     Talking, writing, hurl, polysyllabic words
across a dot matrix screen in a pixel fight with the Lord
don’t made you a prophet or a prophetess
 	You just scream now, scream…
show your pain across a global terrain in a globular dream
‘Cause I know, you know, NOTHING is as it seems.

Rebel, rebel hell, damn good for nothing navel watcher
pick the lint out, start a fire, you don’t have to die to mean something
     you have to do something, damn, it's not enough      to just BE
ACT don’t just bite the dirty hand, green with the bile of your blood
eat the whole arm…chaw of a chunk and spit it in the systemic eye
                      of a postulate system which MAKES have and have nots.
See that fading grin wink from existence      and the twin terrors of
DUMB and DEE saying “Howdy and Fiddle Dee Dee” to the 
arses who claim to KNOW, ‘cause I know, you know,
NOTHINGS as it seems………..

*Dedicated to Jeffery Cohen from one anarchist to another
**This would be my Alice poem ;)

Kaleidoscopic Whorled Wide Web

against light source well crafted 
tubular structure appended with 
eyepiece gazing offers viewer eye-
opening, mind boggling instantaneously 
birthing then vanishing resplendent 

myriad colorful geometric awesome 
shifting shapes hypnotizing sight 
seer whirling gigolo where multi
faceted fractals display pin-wheeling

arithmetically perfect  triangulate squarely with 
proportionate arcs astounding with blind faith 
on microscopic scale analogous to cosmic big bang 
spell-binding mankind from time immemorial when 
her/his gaze turned heavenward peering into 
azure vault – one macrocosmic hint per origin 
from when on-looking proto-humans ruminated 

inscrutably enamored at the spectacular eminence grise
forever holding mystery of universe evolution 
in shroud of secret continually mystifying 
one generation after another until twenty first 
century astro-physicists begin to unravel evolutionary 
tale writ small on planet earth yet storied tome

pried open from scientific revolutions enabling 
birth of cosmos honed with more fine tuned precision 
to zero in on precise second whence explosion filled void
with nebulous material coalescing into rudimentary 
galactic masses generating vast surfeit of globular 
structures evincing

conically swirling
millennially futuristic clear cut entities
upon which one – namely gaia
finds this sole member *****sapiens reveling 
in his makeshift primitive contrivance

teasing ocular sense with visual orgasms
begetting thought provoking questions 
into eternal wonderment that perchance 
intelligent deity willfully rotates planet
some plaything synonymous mere mortal 
peering into magic of kaleidoscope.


Premium Member The Mustard Seed

The smallest of seeds falls and amalgamates with the earth.
Amidst dust to dust, mist, manure, and moisture gain rebirth.
Leaf evolution, stem elongation, and florescence
With sun-lit yellow blooms, it reaches its adolescence.

Like a vulture, it spreads its wings of bold bushy branches.
Towards giving rest to birds of all kinds, it advances.
From a wheatish tone, the colour of seeds slowly turns brown.
Into globular black painite granule finds its renown.

All these were hidden within these as a seed when it fell.
As a seed yielding shrub, it has many tales to tell.
Adding taste to the food and serving as herbs to good health
Is not a mustard seed a gem of herbaceous wealth?

Divine kingdom, though humble in stature, is marvellous.
To seek this, yet, you asked them, shouldn't each one be righteous?
Form: Sonnet

Fanaticism Runs Poetically Amok As Pseudo Tribalism Village One

airing zeal! If (dog forbid) the richly paid, namebrand 
looming kneecapped kneeling illustrious giant egghead 
con cussed career athletes fumble, crumble and bumble 
spelling a loss for those spectators (who doled out 
a wad of cash) quickly make collective disappointment 
known by cursing, first in loin, odiously reprehensible, 

unacceptable wimpy yikyaking atrocious carpetbombing 
expletives. As a casual observer (albeit also participant 
within the human league of billions within the culture 
club sans crowded house), no shortage of opportunities 

avail themselves to scrutinize the man knee ting man 
contention upon this oblate spheroid (densely populated 
globular planet), these myopic brown eyes of mine need 
not pay per view to witness austerity, depravity, gravity, 

et cetera manifold gamut of Primate (particularly Homo 
Sapien) behavior. Raucous, querulous, perilous, obnoxious, 
notorious...actions prompt me to intervene as referee. 
I would fear for my life if one to many excessive acts 
of kindness would require specialists to scrape my pan
caked body electric off the sidewalk. A similar outcome 

would most likely transpire if this totally tubular troubadour 
disgust religion. As a tried and true value adherent of atheism, 
a vociferous, rapacious, nefarious, jackass, fractious Bible 
thumping religious dogmatic character would expend every 
last ounce of fire and brimstone to proselytize me. Thus 

when infrequently conversing about one or the other
aforementioned verboten topics de jure, I consciously 
exhibit genuine indifference keeping mum. Obvious 
quietness sidesteps ugly wickedness.

Your anonymous, curious, erroneous garrulous, hip poe 
potty mass stir wordsmith Matthew Scott Harris
Form:

Premium Member Gallimaufry

Gallimaufry

Your sandals make a strange mixing sound,    
As we step together down this shadowy path,
Past the innumerable tufts of sprygen weed,
Where old farmers once hoofed to the music
Of the Elkhorns, and the Spitters.
We will soon eat from their generous platters,
Abandoned in the ice houses south of Belchork. 
Piled high with sugared meats and bitter olives. 
We will sit in plush lacquered chairs there, 
Chairs of sandlewood, and mystic topaz.
We will be staring into each other’s eyes,
Globular orbs of azure fascinations,
Seeking unspoken permission to stare yet more,
But as an encore, at a pair of different eyes.
We will embrace behind sheer curtains of lapis lazuli,
Inside the vestibule with lotioned legs dangling.
We will move in infinite slowness,
We will seek the absolute devotions,
Of the shadow dances there.
We will listen to the singing sirenic voices
Of the Elkhorns and the Spitters,
Beckoning us with their spiral gyrations, 
As sparkling mineral water is shared in goblets,
Encrusted with peridot and citrin.
We will at last find profound discovery,
Concealed within their mad enticings.
Proceed quietly, shh! Your sandals are noisy,
As we step together down this shadowy path,
Past the ice houses at Belchork, 
Our lives and our consenting atoms
Enmeshed and entwined forever, with 
The innumerable tufts of sprygen weed.

Cosmological Fantastical Imemorial Lil Opus

aswirl within tremendous maelstroms
universal united uninhabitable cauldron
tempered with analogous:
outrageous, portentous
thunderous cacophony in tandem

with thick mucilaginous fog
metaphorically postpartum
nebulous placenta afterbirth
and/or proto planets aborted

per primordial material
slowly (millions of years) coalescence
annealed bubbling primeval soup
engendering (extant

via immeasurably immense stretches of time)
subsequent birth of quasi solar systems
where antediluvian cosmic midwife prepped
quintessential biochemical laboratories

across gamut of space
inexorably incurring, inviting, inuring
pseudo plasmatic phenomenal possibilities
vaguely concatenating, incubating,

nursing inhospitable
wryly, wrought-fully,
write-fully Weltanschauung 
respective environmental, geological,

meteorologically rendered seething broth
conglomerations fused inchoate legions
of Ongepatchket protean quixotic
rudimentary shapeless threads

winding up at greased lightening
eventually simmering temperature
thousands of degrees
conducive for indefatigable living organisms

congealing despite galactic Golem
whiplashing microbial unicellular entities
subjecting globular linkedin progenitors
across the countless eons

where hellacious heat gave way to
punks like cool and the gang
drafted heady lagers produced
thickly *** bergs exceptionally humungous ice

hundreds of millions years ago Arctic vortex
preserved intact forebears of this writer
who still retains
one percent genetic Neanderthal Man 
stock, lock and barrel.
Form: Epic

Premium Member Tomato King

Tomato King
(self proclaimed)
Written: by Miracle man
2-5-2020

Temps changed quickly from seventies to thirties,
from sunny to snow in just twenty-four hours.
Trees are still naked, holding no singing birdies,
but beds will soon burst with wild violet flowers.

Now is the time for planning tomato planting,
planting time comes beyond average frost date.
While huge Goliath tomatoes do sound enchanting,
I may chance planting early, sometimes I can’t wait.

I get my first ripe tomato before the end of June,
this comes about when transplanting was chancy. 
Generally, I plant tomatoes during a waxing moon, 
and like my tomatoes big, red, globular, and fancy.

I plant, apply Epson salts, mulch, water, and fertilize, 
stake, cage, and cover to protect from strong wind.
Then a fleeting time later I start picking my prize,
those who enjoy them think they’re a Godsend.


Due to high potassium and heart problems I can’t eat’em but I can sure grow’em.
(Except when I cheat a little).
Tom
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric

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