Long Growths Poems

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


The Last Acorn

I shiver beneath a frozen sky of milky gray and white  
and like a little rabbit whos barely grown into his coat 
I linger in the forest bristling like a dry piece of wood 

I was detached from my father like a youngling discomfit
I come from a prideful bush of green but its not who I am  
settling down under, on a large tuft of mulch     

I am the last living acorn settled no longer in the air     
but when Autumn sings her song of mellifluous swell 
I seem to outlast every flower of her time    

Life is but a series of spurts, growths, windy dances 
let it be said, " the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" 
but neither does the acorn as far as the eye can see 

I shiver beneath a frozen sky of milky gray and white  
I'm not a blade of grass, nor an eagle,  nor an elk 
I am an acorn with a little french beret, …

April 17, 2020


This Dark Eve

Plutonium ensures growth.
More Plutonium, more growths.

Fewer bombs increase the risk of unemployment.
More bombs increase the risk of employment.

Bombs for peace.
More bombs, more pieces.

Bombs to profit this nation.
More bombs, more profits.

Bombs bring potential enemies to the table.
More bombs, more potential enemies, more tables.

Bombs deter enemies from using bombs against us.
More bombs deter more enemies from using more bombs against us.

Bombs aid the construction industry.
More bombs, more constructions.

Funny, when I was a little boy, I thought
All bombs could do was explode.


How Far We’ve Come

Back in the Dark Ages with their lack of drains,
hygiene, refuse disposal and community dustmen,
Ignorance and superstition reigned rats and hogs.
Spreading from the Black Sea, the Black Death
Brought half of Europe to its grave. After the fall
Of Constantinople, a century on, came the New Learning
and the Renaissance, when Man was proud of being Man.
New worlds were discovered; science was born.
For Francis Bacon science was the source of power:
“Nature obey if you would be her lord.”
Later it was realized, utopias with clean streets
Must be defended, and that by science.

Now the rockets stand erect, poised to poison,
To spill the obscene beans and bugs to finish off.
Do up those buttons, Adam, or you return to dust
Before your time, lest the last mass turbulence
Reveals too late  to what impotence
Our potent forces lead. Who then will ask
Or answer why our best minds, blind only
To the obvious, served to devise the means
Of mass destruction in the hire of governments
Of the people, by the people, for the people
Left dead or dying with no one to erect
Crosses to them in the shade of Adam’s tree?
While the True Vine cries” “Father, why..?,”
And heady Dionysus notes how potent was his drug,
Adam haves one final, futile, groan,
Upon this dark eve.

Premium Member I AM POTATO


I have a skin, brown tan melolin
Inside of me is water, energy
I have nodes from which buds are formed
I am shapeN like a football, a peanut, a fat lumpy carrot
I may develop sprouting, buds, green spots
I may be spoilage, not cause my parents giving me everything I ask

Interspersed in a tubular, vallecular
If for I am green growing out my sprouts
I am better off tossed out
Thrown away
What, Who am I
The one with many eyes, but no hands
Whom, am eye with eyes and spots
Inside me is water, starch and energy
Inside me ivory tan inside me
I am russet Burbank Shepody, Umatilla
What nation to I come from
What nationally am I
You see I am not human
But I human-to-see

I have many so love
the growing points so are potato tubers, 
each with a little stem bud 
the Red, White, Russet Oh’ how we love

 begin to sprout, the growths those roots,
 eyes, and bumps have a high
 concentration of compounds see
I’m not human

I am a potato

Premium Member The Cromlech

The Cromlech


Roots do not grow in monolith mono-light mono-life 
the flat stone of wisdom balances on light and darkness

No moon without the sun the stars the little me in Universe
frightened fortunate translucent transparent transitional opaque
in contrasts contradiction’s complements of polar opposites

           Shadows sparkle brightly finding openings from the dark the black
             the void the awful vortex depressing tunnel vision prism’s shelter
          shining illuminations shade pride pre-judgement enlighten intuition
                       embrace and cover cracks and crevices they join together

                     Rainbows and rain-glows rain-blows’ flows do not patronise
            once they emerge who the patron wants to be born from the yew
      tree of at times annoying living in the village called home and the self

The bark the oval berries leafs ramifications are not vicious or vindictive
the energy and water systems nutrients therein are so amazing
the change and growths broken branches withered sentiments sediments
are what we make of them grim gruesome delightful and victorious
if we so choose the path that shines in light and darkness blazing 
brightness in the tedious awful gloom yet sooty glitters' solemn soiree

Life is but a temporary solar lunar inter-webbed ensemble a tree
a monument museum’s nature’s pantograph perspective pre- and
post-historic past and future present future-past a balancing of one
on other you and I of stone of tree and fruit compost and new beginnings
and every moment is a prelude grounded foreplay focal lens and blossom


A Cromlech Dolmen celebration lightness juxtaposed nocturne and moon

24th July

Premium Member This Is My Wish For You My Son

This Is My Wish For You My Son

                                        Watching you grow up my son
                                        Blessing can’t compare to none
                          The years have gone to fast, but it has just begun
                                           Wisdom of the past lessons
                                    Helped you in your growths passion
                                   Wisdom of responsibility, compassion,
                               And being kind has built up your ambition
                              The past confusions are what has condition
                                       Made you happy with enthusiasm
                                      Don’t stop growing in your wisdom
                         I’ll give you into the hands of God’s evangelicalism
                                        This is my wish for you my son
                          The years have gone to fast, but it has just begun
                                         Blessing can’t compare to none
                                         Watching you grow up my son

By: Eve Roper
 12/28/2014
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
son
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member The Cure

The Cure

They gave me pills today. 
They wanted to give me a shot. 
I took both, 
but now I wonder... Why?

I went by the store, 
on the way home. 
I purchased the prescription, 
I was given. 
The young woman, 
handed me the bottle, 
and the novel, 
of the story...
which was inside. 

"Take this capsule twice each day, 
and never should you stop. 
Take it...
till we tell you too,
until we tell you NOT!
It may contain a bit of this, 
or even some of that, 
and even a few more...
things that make you gag. 
But it will work on the problem 
there will be no lag. 

You might feel a little funny, 
there are a few effects. 
A long kind of stretch..., 
in the back of your neck. 
Warts, and growths... 
and extra things, 
you really did not need, 
will find a way to stay with you, 
forever "they" will feed."

Sunday I decided, 
to try a new approach. 
I told my sickness, "Go away, 
and asked instead the Holy Ghost!
Stay with me, my Lord..., my King...
guide my day to day, 
please stay with me,
now and forever... 
in every way. 

It does not matter healed or not. 
My heart was lifted...
right there,
on the spot.

Amen.  




A. Foster, Ann Foster, Annette Foster
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Cruise Calmness

The time to be happy is now
For the task unto which my pledge bow

Has given me enough motive
To be up to its crack; adaptive

Growing up effective means through
Its affirmative defenses view

How else would confirmation sign
The awaited supervised deadline


The place to be happy is here
Holding unto peaceful atmosphere

Studying promotes duality:
A setting of  class formality

What call to duty checks often
To promote the upcoming Aaron

Before Moses free departure
To lead on others as an archer 


The way to be happy is to
Make others happy  ou of the blue

Providing clues to clueless mind
For none to go astray or grow blind

Like fools give up at ease on hope
Not sure if trying would help them cope

Off its impossibility
Worship inevitability

I have got a little heaven 
Smart OYO-MESI in their seven

Overnight switching codes for peace
Disturbing minds' growths to be at ease

As joyfully as emotions
Running moving streams to form oceans

Unbearable cross then lightened
Amidst schedules for dream so tightened.

Woman and Cat

it will soon be evening
the fish will be cooked with the head and tail on
fried with ginger and lemon grass
on a black iron skillet

the head and tail of the large cod
will be given to the cat

the woman could eat both head and tail
they are the best parts of the fish
but she loves her cat

the cat consumes the fish head and the tail
then go out
to watch the birds until they disappear into the dusk

the woman eats the tender white fish
with lemon
a thick slice of new baked bread 
and much salty butter
for her supper

the bones of the fish she plants in her small garden
to nourish the soil

soon the cat will smell the new green growths
and love her more
flowers will bloom under a fish-eyed sky
small birds are safe for another day

the battlefield of survival

The Battlefield of Survival

There is nothing that brings out our fragility
to surface like surgery, dreams one has of
success is laid bare under the well-lit light
of an operating table
First time I had one of those growths removed
was seventy-five years ago by our doctor
wearing a three-piece suit with a blue tie
My memory of him is that of a man who 
had a cigarette in one hand and a scalpel 
on the other hand, during the proceedings
 he spoke to my mother about the weather
That was inclement, and the Labor Party
He and my mother were communists 
For a long time, I had to take blood tests
which I didn't mind, his waiting room was
full of magazines and newspapers
There is nothing to read in waiting rooms
anymore, apparently, it is unhygienic 
Not that it mattered, one has phones
The surgeon and his assistant spoke 
pleasantly to each other about their work
at hand, I just happen to be there
After the operation, I was led into a room
to rest and dress, no, there was no kind
 nurse serving tea
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.
Form: ABC

Not All Wounds Are Visible

Not all wounds are visible
My people has been wounded enough
Because they keep on holding on 
To the old ways 
Till now we suffer same things from the past 
No wonder we keep suffering 
Cos the people that are meant 
To represent us 
Are the main reason we became
Economic wounded
Resources wounded
Poverty wounded
Growths wounded
Morally wounded
I wonder what more inflation
That can be inflated on us 
Cos we have seen 98 percent of pains
We are not scared of 2 more


Not all wounds are visible
Despite all hardship we pass through 
We cover our pains with smiles 
Despite all the troubles we face 
We calm ourselves down with peace
We understand the importance
To maintain love among each other 
Their is no other better way 
If we don't support one another
We can together be a blessing
To the world
Or inflate pains on ourselves
And create wounds we can't heal so quickly
Form: Epic

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