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.
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.
Shout BLUESKY
Those the marshmallow clouds walk across pale blue hue skies;
Birds peek-O-boo, gliding by in and out poked out chest;
Blue birds, Sparrows, Robins and Redbreast;
All natures cries…
Shout BlueSky
Blues skies
While, whisk slithering whining sliding back N forth N and out;
On hot heated grassed grounds stomaching the glide front side slides shouts;
Caterpillars, worms all bellies crawling;
They to join the choir sing chorus they look up
All natures cries…
Shout BlueSky
Blues skies
6/15/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
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.]
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...
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.
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
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©
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
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)
Refuge
Whither the river flows and finds its way
Life surges and ebbs by hunter and prey,
There, beside wooded paths alert anglers fish
By slow waters where cool willows sway.
Painted boats glide on the bright wavelet’s crest,
Below shaded bridges, fish feed or rest
And gather in close clumps of reed or sedge,
A Grey Heron sits upon its open nest.
Passing tall grassed meadows where cattle graze,
Under oaks, horses retreat from heat filled haze
Nervous rabbits run to bank side burrows
And field mice escape the lone raptor’s gaze,
The silent hunter waits and finds his mark.
Inside a moored boat’s cabin, a dog’s bark
As fox and cubs sleep in their hidden lair,
While others find refuge in the watchful dark.
Barry Stebbings
July 2023