Long Grassed Poems
Long Grassed Poems. Below are the most popular long Grassed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grassed poems by poem length and keyword.
I hear the sounds of a spring brightening dawn,
As fledgeling birds from sheltering nests emerge.
A lone Blackbird’s singing lifts this idling morn,
A creature scuttering through the long grassed verge.
I hear a fox barking in the fading night,
An early bee droning through the warming day.
I hear breezes rustling in the morning light,
The slow risen hours of a full budded May,
I hear the symphony of the pouring rain,
The hiss as sudden watery puddles form,
Fast rivulets gushing through the gurgling drain,
Low grumbling sounds of a distant passing storm.
I hear the woodland stream sing its own refrain
And slow draughts whispering through the barn’s stored grain.
A beautiful soul with spreading arms, but tired of a constant embrace
a steep valley, grassed and watered by so much pampering
bordered by two massaging hills and round-the-clock sheltering
then much attention is given to the Winchester to always stay refilled.
Wide is mother’s bossom but becoming a soft blockade
strong are father’s arms, enough to be restrictions
their eyes, stationed in all cardinal points of this young life
to measure every alternating radius and changing circumference.
Grateful to dad and mum, they yet not deserve applause
boredom slowly germinating from the show of too much importance
with a younger one, the dry lands will also be riverine
when the seeds are two, this being will become superordinate
please give this child a sibling and with peace, she’ll reconcile.
Dear diary, I write these words, so sad and true,
and etch my heartfelt thoughts forever in this book.
Now, with a broken heart, I share my pain with you.
My childhood home, in wooded setting near a brook,
I now will have to leave with permanent goodbye,
and etch my heartfelt thoughts forever in this book.
For many years it stood, pure white, three stories high...
our home on a grassed hill, old-world design and proud
I now will have to leave with permanent goodbye.
My childhood home now stands below a stormy cloud;
is doomed to action that brings us lament and pain...
our home on a grassed hill, old-world design and proud.
For, New York State has now ruled eminent domain;
a bridge between two towns is planned, all set to build.
is doomed to action that brings us lament and pain...
So, on this page, my bitter, weeping tears are spilled:
Dear diary, I write these words so sad and true;
a bridge between two towns is planned, all set to build.
Now, with a broken heart, I share my pain with you.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: A Poem Called, From My Diary
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 11/07/2017
True Story ~ 1960
Written in Iambic Hexameter (12 syllables, 6 feet)
My aim was spot on at close range or distant
The coppers were on scene post haste
The sirens were loud and extremely insistent
I gazed at the guns I now faced
Seven patrol cars had screeched to a halt
And tyre marks blackened the floor
Seven patrol cars may well have seemed nought
So the cops sent about fourteen more
The army arrived as the cops took their places
All crouching with guns trained on me
The soldiers wore camo with blackened up faces
The tanks that they brought numbered three
Two choppers were armed with hi-tech weaponry
And hovering just overhead
The super-bright spotlights that beamed down on me
Would fill other felons with dread
The little red dots that appeared on my vest
Meant snipers had me in their sights
Awaiting the order to puncture my chest
So someone could read my last rights
I don’t understand how they got there so fast
I didn’t think I would get caught
It seemed to me one of my neighbours had grassed
They’re not as good friends as I thought
Just then a cop with a gun in one hand
And a loudhailer held in the other
Addressed me like I was the scourge of our land
And I would bring shame to my mother
He said, ‘Just accept that we’ve thwarted your plans
For that's how such villainy goes
So lay that thing down and raise both your hands
And then step away from the hose.’
***
[On 5 August 2022 the Isle of Wight and Hampshire (UK) had a hosepipe ban imposed upon residential water customers. There is a suggestion that neighbours should grass on their neighbours. The fine for daring to water your Zinnias is £1000.]
The vastness of the prairies
Grassed and green
As far as the eye can see
Grace the lands
Of the Big Country
Ranches so large
It takes days to ride
Herds so colossal
Ranchers pride
Long horned steers
Browned and white
Like the buffalo
An incredible sight
The open range
Inhabit with new
Sheep farmers arrive
Lambing Ewes
With vast herds
And flocks of sheep
Big Countries land
No longer deep
The Homestead Act of 1862
Led to the need, to feed us humans too
Ranchers diversified, and farmed as well
As the Big Countries population began to swell
The prairie lands as big as they are
Could never sustain the bovine stars
Organisation would eventually fold
As grazing rights, the government sold
No more roaming for these herded souls
Fenced off ranches, the modern goal
Barbed wire in 1874
Kept the herds, and they roamed no more
You have to admire the land of the free
Make that journey take a look and see
Vast prairies for past ranchers be
The Big Country
There are some colours
that can never be repainted,
marks that can never be removed
and stains that can never be covered.
Move on!
My past loved one,
don't hold unto my shoulders
as though nature formed us together.
We've once crossed that bridge
but even before reaching its middle
we had crashed into the river
and were swallowed
by the rocks of its depth.
Do you remember,
at first we built a garden
coloured in trust
and grassed with unbelievable care?
But we converted it
into an Oven
where love and hate mix
and our problems;
I'm the only one trying to fix.
Unfortunate episodes
of our heated drama
was already counting at thirty and six.
The beautiful songs of our hearts
we remix
as sadness and anger feasts.
Why shouldn't I leave
and prevent my heart
from an avoidable accident?
But you stick around
only to suffer from self torture.
My new and bright countenance
makes you wanna have sex
with other male colleagues, I flex.
It's barely two weeks
that makes you perplexed
well; it's your problem
b'cos I'm not bothered
if you're vexed.
Are you the first
to be an ex?
Just move on, my dear past lover!
It will be the height of folly
and the worship of loneliness
if you visit our world again.
How do you feel
when stepping out?
Of a cold dark house
into this returning first spring
full-sun warm morning
just at fragrant dawn
Embracing your shoulders
neck
face
arms
hands
and your naked
cool green grassed
wet feet
You
squinting appreciation for FatherSun's
sacred enlightenment
promise
multi-regenerations greeting me
again
as He has spawned
co-arising deep gratitude
Resiliently penetrating
since FatherSun
first fertilized
organic MotherEarth's
black and brown-skinned
organic
ecofeminist
health is wombed eco-wealth.
How do you feel
when stepping out
into Earth's last first spring
full-sun morning?
warm
passionately resilient
warning
about summer's relentless
emerging heat.
Diminishing virtues stripped away
From the flesh
By the fierce brined rods that freely
Course thy hot crimson blood;
Dry cracked lips attempting to
Fashion broken words of compliance
That so must needs to be spoken...
But...Ohhh, Meretrix...
My foolish and innocent child -
If you but only could!
Consider, Meretrix,..humility!
To which pleasure one thus
Submitted
Guiltily discovers:-
The joy in the act or posture of
Lowering oneself in relation to
Others.
For in your anguished dis-repair
You will find strength to endure and
Embrace:-
The acceptance of all your defects
And ultimate seduction
In the power of your:-
"Submission to Divine Grace"!
I will adorn you in the yellow Toga
Of the Vestal virgins,
They whom wise Augusta did abhor;
Burden upon you with an Imperial
Tax
Imposed by perverted Caligula:
Whither all Matronly protestations he
Didst dismissively ignore;
My Tribune forcefully exact -
When employing you in the
Degenerated role
Of my most reluctant Whore!
Clasp jeweled anklets abouts your
Shapely bones,
Decorate upon you like fired and
Painted porcelain figurines;
Whilst all the while, as your lost mind
Bemoans,
Choking between involuntary gurgles
And low-pained, stifled screams,
The gagged mouth bites down
Amidst salivating sounds
Borrowed from the hurtling
Nightmares
Of your darkest dreams!
For I will lift you higher than the
Tallest mountain peak...
So you may gaze with awe over all
The innumerable Kingdoms and their
Proud tyrant Kings;
Of the many differing species of all
Mankind type things...
And of the immeasurable riches
They so endlessly seek.
Lower you to the solitudes of the
Grassed floors
That sweep across the sunken
Valleys deep;
Where, besides enchanted streams,
Violated Nymphs quietly weep
For Abels broken schemes;
Now, tragically, all taken apart;
And for the wicked callousness
Of fallen man...
Whose desperate greeds ripped out
His live brothers still beating heart -
Then tore at the living throat of
The one true Gods Holy Lamb!
TO BE CONTINUED...
AUTUMN WINTER'S SPRING
Burnt umber reddish brown bronze
Folic tree leaves on the grounds autumn
Chestnut smoky topaz
Cracklings of fallen autumns spring summer camp fires
Springs crickets sings flowing grassed sway in the morning spring breeze
Drops drip, drip, drip water plops the drip, drip drip drops of water rains be
Burnt umber grand ma’s turkey
Reddish brown bronze pumpkin/sweet potato pie
Chestnut smoky topaz golden brown cornbread
Like marshmallows burnt umber
Feels warm furnace reddish brown bronze embracement
Like Chestnut smoky topaz
What colors can do, Embraceable Hues
3/21/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2023©
Spring Is Sprung
The daffies are ready to give us their best
The early spring sun gifting newfound zest
The chaffinch, the blue tit, the robin redbreast
Flit hither thither, all planning to nest
Skys, winter grey, hint at forthcoming blue
New shoots appearing where last year they grew
And soon there'll be blossom in many a hue
And frost will succumb to victorious dew
Folk in their Woolies mow gardens where grassed
And in the marina they’re raising a mast
All that was dormant emerges at last
Now that the worst of the winter has passed
13 February 2019
Contest: Songbirds
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin